


Through the walls

by akaashook



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Living Together, M/M, Osamu is just done, POV Alternating, Photographer! Sakusa, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Sakusa's house is on fire, Slow Burn, Something's burning, guess where he lives now?, i still don't know how to tag, just my desir-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaashook/pseuds/akaashook
Summary: One of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s many passions has always been photography.The art of making things eternal.The art of fixing memories.In a simple shot, a thousand meanings, a thousand mysteries. A thousand sensations can be captured within a second. You can capture a soul.A photograph can be anything and everything, it can be time and space, it can be light or shadow or whatever lies between the two, hundreds of thousands of shades of colors. A photograph can become melody, aroma, flavor. A photograph… something so small, so insignificant and yet so extraordinarily powerful, devastating.Sakusa Kiyoomi was a photographer.He caught moments, feelings, essences, he clung to them and he made them immortal thanks to a modest click, he gave them a second life.But Sakusa was a coward.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, background OsaSuna
Comments: 43
Kudos: 427





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the end I decided to translate this fic just for fun and then I thought I could put it here. Listen, I know this is unrealistic, but please bear with me. My point here is: SakuAtsu won't leave my mind and I don't know what to do about it.  
> Also how do you write Atsumu's accent????  
> Hope you enjoy!

One of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s many passions has always been photography.

The art of making things eternal.

The art of fixing memories.

In a simple shot, a thousand meanings, a thousand mysteries. A thousand sensations can be captured within a second. You can capture a soul.

A photograph can be anything and everything, it can be time and space, it can be light or shadow or whatever lies between the two, hundreds of thousands of shades of colors. A photograph can become melody, aroma, flavor. A photograph… something so small, so insignificant and yet so extraordinarily powerful, devastating.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a photographer.

He caught moments, feelings, essences, he clung to them and he made them immortal thanks to a modest click, he gave them a second life.

But Sakusa was a coward.

He was a shadow, an evanescent presence ready to disappear at any moment, a soap bubble. Weak. No. Fragile. His existence was lived behind a thin sheet of glass, a system of concave and convex mirrors that allowed him to see the world without necessarily having to be a part of it.

But his problem wasn’t really the world, that was made of instants and instants spoke a language that Sakusa understood, of which he knew the value. His problem was how that world made him feel.

Or maybe it was just Sakusa’s way of perceiving things that was different. More intense.

And he wanted to share it with those who were willing to listen.

Those who wanted to learn the language of instants.

…

It was a clear day.

The sun crossed the foliage of the trees generating the carpet of shadows on which Sakusa was walking. 

The park was one of his favorite subjects. It was a place of tranquility, of quiet. It was a crossroads of lives, experiences, worlds. It pulsed with life. It was an homogeneous amalgam of colors. A vortex of stimuli.

Sometimes the force of that vortex was such as to make his legs tremble. Maybe that’s why he suddenly found himself lying on the grass with his camera in his hands.

How could people not realize the value of that place? Of the song it sang?

Sakusa didn’t want to get up. He closed his eyes.

He breathed in deeply.

The pure air he was inhaling filled his lungs, spread throughout his body and completely nullified its weight. Sakusa was light. He was a balloon eager to get lost in the vastness of the sky. He was a blade of grass ready to receive the kiss of fresh dew. He was a cloud, driven by gusts of wind, travelling towards distant and unknown destinations.

He breathed out slowly.

It was time to get to work. There were so many things to do. So many impressions to give voice to. Sakusa doubted he could ever grasp them all. Not even if he dedicated a lifetime to them.

He got up and started walking again. Sakusa never had a predetermined subject. He usually let his instincts guide him. He particularly liked the indefinite movements, the ones that you register with the corner of the eye, but that you can’t really delineate. Sakusa loved those movements because they represented a puzzle, a way of testing himself, a challenge. Would he succeed in framing the uncertain, the indistinct, the nuanced, without setting any limits to it? Without depriving it of its essence and his unknowability? 

After all ‘framing’ means ‘locking up’. Is it really possible to set boundaries to something boundless by definition? How can you pretend to know the smell of a flower you never smelt? To remember the face of someone you have never known?

Maybe moments like that were meant to stay blurry, encrypted, unattainable. 

Sakusa was walking along the bank of the river that crossed the park when he heard a sharp scream that shook him from his thoughts. He lifted his head and saw that, a few meters from him, on the wooden bridge that connected the two halves of the park, a blond desperate-looking boy was climbing the handrail. 

The guy jumped down.

_ Ridiculous  _ he thought. Why would he do something like that?

Sakusa heard a woman gasping and watched her carry a hand to her mouth, on her left there was a group of girls bending in two with laughter, a man grinned, some elders murmured.

That single, bizarre event had moved something into the calm of the park, and had created reactions. It was a sudden earthquake, a wave capable of dragging anyone who was close enough with it.

Sakusa wondered if the air hadn’t been motionless until now, waiting for that particular event, that sudden draft of wind that carried new solicitations.

Or maybe he was trying to build a castle where there was no foundation. 

Maybe he was trying to weave a plot of references and echoes without the thread.

Maybe he was over-analyzing something really simple.

Some idiot had just jumped off a bridge for some stupid reason that, for some other stupid reason, Sakusa was curious to find out.

The boy resurfaced, or better, a phone resurfaced and then the boy. He was panting, but he was smiling. No, he was laughing.  _ He’s having fun. _

There was something special about that scene. Sakusa understood that because he felt his grip on the camera tighten instinctively, he lifted it up. It probably had to do with the colors, the mixture of green and blue and yellow, or maybe it was the light that caressed tenderly every corner and curve, it reflected on the water and then it dispersed in the air, blending with it. Or maybe it was the genuineness of that laugh, maybe it was the whole context surrounding that laugh, that had made it possible.

Sakusa didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. As always he let his first impulse guide him and

click.

…

“You’re trending on Twitter” the evil twin giggled “someone even managed to film the entire flight”

Atsumu turned around on the couch of his living room. Maybe if he kept doing so at some point he would be swallowed up and he wouldn’t have to deal with Osamu’s mockery.

His mind went back to the previous day’s ‘deed’ or, as Atsumu liked to call it, the ‘event that led to his death’. Why did the damn phone have to slip out of his hand just as he was on a freaking bridge? Why during an Instagram live? But more importantly, why didn’t he hesitate to jump off that freaking bridge?

Not that the fan’s attention to his ‘flight of the angel’ displeased or embarrassed him , but Osamu’s comments were unbearable and he would have done anything to silence him.

**Do any of you know how to conceal a murder’s evidence?**

He tweeted from his phone, the one that had magically survived the incident.

“Ya know, ‘Tsumu, the first step to commit a perfect homicide is not letting yer 22 million followers know that ya want to commit one.” 

“I’ll hit ya when ya least expect it.”

“To do that, ya should get yer ass off the couch first” Osamu said, ginning.

Atsumu was promptly ignoring his brother, scrolling through Instagram when he saw the photo. It wasn’t unusual for him to be tagged in numerous comments, especially on a nefarious day like that, but many were tagging him under a particular post.

The user was @skskym and the description was **The effects that light produces on a wet idiot.** _Offensive_ Atsumu thought _but had a nice shot._

In the picture he was laughing, he seemed serene, cheerful, amused. Light. But if you looked at it more carefully it was possible to reveal another level that played hide and seek behind the superficial one, a thin halo of vague melancholy. Not solid enough to stand out, but delimited enough to capture the attention of an attentive spectator.

It was a multi-layered picture, just like Atsumu. For a fleeting second he felt observed. Exposed. 

Out of curiosity he decided to take a peek at the other photos on that profile: a window overlooking a deserted road (caption:  **a glass border** ), a black and white image of an ancient looking clock (caption:  **thorns of time** ), the foliage of a tree in autumn, the leaves approaching the fall (caption: **tightrope walkers** ), a mirror reflecting the camera (caption: **broken lens** ).  _ He’s got beautiful hands, _ Atsumu reflected while looking at the last picture.

The boy was definitely good.  _ He must be a boy, those are a boy’s hands. _

“Hey, ‘Samu, whatcha think of a photo shoot?”

“Why should ya make one when I’ve got right here a folder of your photos that will certainly make yer fans go crazy?”

“Dontcha dare” Atsumu shouted.

Osamu merely smiled and hid the fact that he might (theoretically) have created a fake profile just to make fun of his brother online. Doing it in real life, obviously, wasn’t enough for him.

“I don’t even know why I asked ya, I’ll do whatever I want anyway” he said as he began writing the message.

…

**Hey**

Sakusa looked and looked at the screen several times, as if that word concealed some arcane and encrypted meaning, as if it were more than a simple greeting. He was not accustomed to receiving attention or messages, why would anyone voluntarily decide to engage in a conversation with him?

He asked:  _ who are you? _

The answer arrived sooner than he expected.

**The wet idiot**

_ Ah. _

_ What do you want? _

**A date**

_ No. _

Sakusa was one step away from blocking this crazy stranger when his phone vibrated again.

**I meant a professional appointment. I need a photo shoot**

_ That’s what professional photographers are for. _

**But their photos are not like yours**

**Those are beautiful to look at**

**Yours are beautiful to listen to**

**You’ll be paid ofc**

**C’mon**

**Please**

_ Do you plan on going on like this for a long time? _

**Nagging ya might be a good was to convince you to say yes**

_ It is not. _

**Really?**

**Maybe I should consider bribery**

**I can get ya the best onigiri of all japan for free :)**

_ It’s still a no. _

**You’re**

**Disrespectful**

_ I find it hard to respect idiots who jump off a bridge to draw attention. _

**I DROPPED MY PHONE IN THE RIVER**

_ You could have reacted more calmly. _

**Not my style**

_ I can imagine. _

**C’mon**

**Did I mention the fact that I’ll pay you?**

**Please**

**Accept**

**C’mon**

**I see you read my texts**

**Answer meee**

_ I’m blocking you. _

**NO**

**ASDKGVKAGNWI**

**PLEASE**

**DON’T**

**WAIT**

**WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS**

**C’MON**

**TOMORROW AT 3 PM, THE BRIDGE I JUMPED OFF**

**SEE YA**

**I’LL WAIT**

Sakusa decided not to block the guy, but he also decided not to consider the offer. He kept walking towards his apartment.

However, as soon as he closed the door behind him, in the absence of things to do, thoughts became the only way to keep busy and, unfortunately, among those there were the messages of an unbearable bleached blond idiot.

Without realizing it, he found himself on @tsumtsum’s profile. Miya Atsumu. 22 years old. 22 million followers. A very messy feed, photos full of smiles and bright colors, some in black and white, some blurred.

It all seemed so fake, an apparent gleam, an illusion poised between stability and crumbling .

It reminded him of a photo he took some months ago in Komori’s apartment: pieces of different puzzles scattered on the floor, waiting for a hand willing to give them an order, a purpose.

Miya Atsumu’s profile was an incomplete puzzle.

Right at that moment his phone vibrated. Sakusa rolled his eyes when he saw who the sender of the new message was.

**What’s yer name?**

_ None of your business. _

**Quite a long name**

**So will I see ya tomorrow, None of your business-kun?**

_ I’d just show up to push you off that bridge again. _

**TRY IT IF YA DARE COWARD**

**Idk who’s worse between ya and my brother, I mean it**

**Btw**

**I swear**

**I’m**

**A**

**Good person**

**Show up**

**Pleaaaase**

_ Sakusa. _

**Eh?**

_ That's my name. Now shut up. _

**I’ll stop talking**

**Typing**

**Whatever**

**Tomorrow**

**3pm**

**Good night, Sakusa-kun**

…

It was 3:05 p.m.

Sakusa had elaborated a three-step perfect plan: wake up, avoid the encounter with Miya Atsumu, go to bed. Easy.

Evidently something must have gone wrong because going to the park did not figure on his to-do list.

Sakusa established that trying to understand why his legs had led him there, rather than straight home as planned, was useless.  _ It’s not too late to go back,  _ he thought,  _ he hasn’t seen me yet. _

Miya was there since 2:45. Sakusa knew it because he was there, sitting on a bench that granted him a perfect view of the bridge, from 2:38.

It wasn’t a good idea.

Miya checked something (probably the time) on his phone and started looking around.

Definitely not a good idea.

Miya began to compose a message.

A bad idea.

His phone vibrated:  **it’s yer last chance sakkun**

It was a horrible idea.

Where did Miya go?

A terrible idea.

“Found ya!” an acute and irritating voice exclaimed, while the person it belonged to let himself fall on the bench beside him with a smile far too wide and smart for Sakusa’s tastes.

The latter jumped off, terrified, and tried to get as far away as possible while still sitting.

A fleeting expression crossed the other’s face, something between confusion, shock and interest. But that fox-like smile soon resurfaced with an intensity stronger than before, if it was possible.

“Ah” he said “too close, huh?”

Sakusa nodded and took his time to observe Miya Atsumu. He was color and absence of color, he was the product of the tangle of numerous yellow and black threads, his eyes had the same density of melted gold and a dangerous gleam inside them, his hair was straw-yellow and seemed soft.

He was wearing a pastel yellow t-shirt with “I’d wish you the best, but I’m the best” written in orange and black jeans.

He reminded him of a sunset.

“Like whatcha see?” he asked with that ridiculous smile on his face and Sakusa wanted to see it disappear.

“Let’s say I preferred you in the river, at least ten meters away” he deadpanned.

“Ya hurt me, Sakkun” he said bringing a hand to his chest tragicomically.

“Don’t call me that,” he said impassible.

“So authoritative” Miya smiled.

“I’m leaving” he was about to get up, but a shout detained him.

“NO! OK! YA WIN! STAY”

“Give me a good reason”

“I’ll pay ya”

“No”

Sakusa was already standing when Miya tried to grab him, but his hand stopped in mid-air. “Sorry” he heard him whisper with the broken voice of someone who really means it, with the low eyes of someone who recognizes his mistake and is strong enough to want to fix it.

And somehow, for some reason, that was enough for Sakusa.

…   
“Okay, let’s start again. I’m Atsumu”

“I know”

“Obviously. And your name is…”

“You know”

“Yeah. And dontcha have a name other than your last name?”

“Yes”

“And it is…”

“My business”

“Wow, you are definitely a piece of work”

Sakusa stared at him frowning “What do you mean by that?”

“You know” Miya answered with a smile far too sly and then he giggled.

“Okay, Sakkun” he continued “what do we do?”

This guy was truly ridiculous.

“It’s your photo shoot. You tell me” he said rolling his eyes.

“Well, I just hoped you had a few suggestions” he tilted his head “I admit that my plan A wasn’t very elaborate” he took a hand to his chin and started caressing an imaginary beard.

“You’re waiting for me to ask what your plan A was” it sounded more as an affirmation than a question, because it was.

Another one of those fox-like smiles “Arentcha curious, Sakkun?” he chuckled and stared at him intensely, right in the eyes. The afternoon sunlight bounced off his long eyelashes and made them look like colored air threads.

“You’re going to tell me anyway, right?”

“You’re a really perceptive man, Sakkun” he winked at him “The plan was to wait patiently for inspiration to enlighten us as we randomly roam the city”

“With you?”

“I know it may be hard for ya to believe, but a lotta people would to have this opportunity” he waited an then “Also” he continued “I’ll pay ya to do this”

Sakusa did not understand why Miya felt the constant need to remind him that he would pay him. He wouldn’t certainly forget. As a university student, the economic problem was normal, and a little extra money never hurt. After all, that was the reason he decided to show up at the meeting, wasn’t it?

“I guess you have a plan B”

“’Course I do, didja think I was a beginner?” he cried with that high-pitched voice that pierced Sakusa’s ears.

“Aren’t you tired of asking questions you already know the answer to?” he stared at him, lifting his chin as if to look down on him.

“You’re” he raised his index to emphasize his next statement “mean” he slurred.

“I believe your ego is big enough to handle the blow”

“However” Miya squeaked, he pulled the phone out of his pocket “Since I had foreseen this eventuality, I elaborated the perfect plan B: asking the audience” and he started typing something on the screen.

“I thought the B stood for Bridge” Sakusa almost smiled under the mask he was wearing. Almost. 

“My brother and ya won’t let me live in peace, not even one day. Do ya know each other? Are ya secretly in cahoots to boycott me? Are ya trying to get rid of me because, clearly, I’m the better one?”

“Clearly” Sakusa said “Alas, my cover’s blown. I think it’s time to abort the mission and leave”

That’s when Sakusa’s phone started ringing.

…

The things Atsumu knew about Sakusa were a few, but to make a list you need at least two elements and, in his, there were at least three:

  1. He was a reserved person who didn’t like proximity and/or being the center of attention.
  2. Those two moles over the right eyebrow were adorable.
  3. His composure was admirable.



For this exact reason Atsumu was puzzled when he saw his jaw twitching and his eyes open widely, becoming two black holes and eagerly absorbing every trace of color from his face, until it eventually dried out.

He watched him hang up slowly. He didn’t understand what was going on and he couldn’t even focus on the conversation, too busy scrutinizing every single movement of his.

There was a moment, just a single, precise moment during which the world seemed to hold its breath. Atsumu’s senses could no longer perceive the afternoon breeze’s caress on his skin, the smells that reigned in the park, the ground under his feet. It was impossible to determine whether everything had been immobilized or whether it had suddenly begun to move at such speed it broke any rational and irrational barrier.

And then it happened.

The catalyst.

The event the world was waiting for.

Sakusa collapsed.

Not literally because he was sitting on the bench, but Atsumu understood it. The little light that had remained in his eyes staggered and was about to go out completely, leaving behind only a faint trail of ash, ready to dissolve at the slightest whisper of the wind.

Sakusa slowly took his mask off.

He seemed to do everything he did slowly. Maybe it was his way to try to control his little cosmos or maybe it was to avoid the final collapse. Atsumu didn’t care. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that a complete stranger,  _ almost complete stranger _ was about to have some sort of nervous breakdown in front of him and he was the last person on the planet who had the capabilities to help him.

“Sakusa” he spoke, his voice so low he couldn’t even recognize it.

No reaction.

“Hey Sakusa-kun” he tried again, a firmer but still calm tone.

Nothing.

And Atsumu wasn’t ready. He could have handled anger, sadness, probably even a panic attack. But this was different. This was nothingness. This was the black hole in Sakusa’s irises and Atsumu was not ready.

He hesitantly reached out a hand to him. He uttered his name once more.

_ What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? _

It was almost imperceptible, but Sakusa shook his head slightly and Atsumu understood. He let his hand fall into his lap. He stepped aside until he sat on the other end of the bench, as far away as possible. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked in a whisper “I can’t help you if I don’t know” he brought a hand to his hair “Please let me help you.”

Seconds passed, and soon they became minutes and neither moved, neither spoke. That heavy sense of immobility continued to reign undefeated. Atsumu refused to open his eyes.

He only did when he heard a click.

And the world restarted turning, time flowing, wind blowing and Atsumu breathing.

That single sound had moved an entire universe. 

Sakusa stared at him with the camera in his hands and Atsumu was grateful that he was seated because the look he was given was able to make legs tremble and Atsumu didn’t know, he didn’t want, he didn’t understand-

“It was my neighbor,” Sakusa said in a calm voice, as if he was measuring every word.

Atsumu took a while to realize what he was talking about, before he remembered the call a few minutes ago. It seemed like hours had passed.

“I have to go home. I need to. I-

“Okay, come on. I’ll go with you”

“I… don’t have a home anymore”

“Eh?”

“It was my neighbor” he repeated “My house… my apartment… he called me to tell me that there was a fire in our building”

Ah. Fire. Building. House. Ah.

“Ah” Atsumu said.

“Ah” Sakusa replied.

…

That same evening, Atsumu was able to analyze the facts of the day with a clear eye. In order:

  1. He went to the park to meet Sakusa.
  2. Sakusa had received a phone call.
  3. He had taken Sakusa home (or what was left of it).
  4. He invited Sakusa to sleep over.



And that’s the story of how Miya Atsumu ended up spending the night with an almost complete stranger in his bed.

…

At the age of ten, Sakusa Kiyoomi got lost.

He hardly remembered anything about that day. But usually what remains isn’t the moments, but the feelings that those moments leave us. On the skin, on the tip of the tongue, in the scent of a distant memory.

On that day, Sakusa hadn’t felt anything.

Years later, looking back, he told himself it was impossible, that there had to be something, a tiny speck of something, even if its name was indifference, apathy.

Sometimes a memory can be the lack of something.

A memory is nothing more than an imprint of the past, be it deep or shallow.

On that day it had rained. Sakusa remembered feeling a drop of rain crashing down on his face, just below his left eye, as if the sky was crying for him. He had crouched on the sidewalk, in the middle of that thick forest that prevented him from seeing anything beyond the tip of his nose. No. It wasn’t trees that surrounded him. It was a crowd of giants. No. It was the huddle of people among whom Sakusa was lost, people who kept going on, unaware of the lost child who seemed to have stopped breathing a few inches from them. How could he have thought that they were trees? Trees produce oxygen, these people were greedily sucking it out of his lungs.

That day it had not rained. And that damp thread that had crossed his cheek, just below his left eye hadn’t been a raindrop.

…

Sakusa felt the colorless taste of that memory in his mouth even before he woke up.

At that moment he was in that bridge dimension between dream and reality commonly called half-sleep. He was aware he wasn’t in his bed. The pillow his head was resting on was softer than his, the sheets had a different consistency compared to those he was used to, but Sakusa had nothing to fear, after all he had convinced Miya to replace them the night before. They were clean, new, fresh, like the sun gently caressing his face through the thin barrier offered by the curtains.

Sakusa didn’t need to make an effort to recall the previous day’s events: after the phone call he had returned to his apartment’s ruins (some parts of the bedroom and the small bathroom survived), Miya had accompanied him (why did he accompany him?) in silence and, while watching him collect the few things that could still be useful to him, he had asked “Do your parents live nearby?”, Sakusa had shaken his head. “Then any friends?” The only friend he had ever had was Komori and he currently lived a lot of kilometers away. He had shaken his head again. “Where are ya going to spend the night?” (was that worry in his voice?). Sakusa had no idea.

The words Miya had uttered soon after escaped his memory, but they had been an awkward attempt to invite him to his house to sleep, hinting that his brother wouldn’t be there for the day, that there was a free bed. Sakusa remembered how they made him feel. Insecure. Suspicious. Afraid.

He had tightened his eyes and stared at him so intensely that he saw black dots dancing in his view.

Sakusa hadn’t felt anything.

At some point he must have nodded, sealing some kind of silent pact with Miya.

His house was much larger than his miserable apartment. It had three stories.

When he crossed the threshold, the first thing he felt was calmness. The living room was quite large and, beyond a counter, was the kitchen. The first word Sakusa had thought was ‘spacious’. He had to admit that he liked it. It wasn’t a coincidence that the concept of space was at the root of the concept of freedom of movement. Both were very welcome.

He had followed Miya up the stairs, down the first floor hallway, past a door leading to a bedroom.

“Ya can sleep here” he said.

“Is this your brother’s room?”

“No”

Sakusa had tilted his head.

“Why?”

His answer had been a shrug.

“I just thought ya’d like to sleep in the room of someone ya know - even if we don’t know each other very much - than in the room of a perfect stranger.

“You’re a perfect stranger” he knew he shouldn’t have said anything rude, after all this stranger had allowed him to save quite a bit of money by inviting him to spend the night at his place, but Sakusa couldn’t be entirely relaxed. He was unable to abandon suspicion and fear. Who would ever offer to host someone you just met? Only a lunatic. A lunatic.

But at that moment he had to be grateful to that lunatic.

“Thank you” he whispered when Miya opened the bathroom door for him and invited him to take a shower if he needed it.

“Thank you” he had whispered when Miya changed the sheets of his own bed without question.

“Thank you” he had whispered to Miya Atsumu before he left his own room to spend the night in his brother's 

“Good night, Sakusa,” Atsumu replied, smiling and closed the door behind him.

…

Sakusa only opened his eyes when he heard a slight touch on the door, as if someone wanted to knock, but didn't dare to do it.

For his part, he wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone at that time of the morning.

He didn't know what time it was, but it was always too early to interact with anyone.

He decided to look around.

Miya's room was… Well, it was definitely Miya's room. The vibrations he felt in that bedroom were the same ones he felt the afternoon before when he met him. Not only that, they were also the ones he had felt from the messages they had exchanged .

Every person has a vibration, an invisible wave, a very thin thread that staggers, trembles, relaxes, suddenly stretches out, becomes steam, breaks and reassembles. Sakusa tended to associate colors with those vibrations. 

Miya Atsumu was all the shades that were found between ochre yellow and pastel yellow, with some brushstrokes of black here and there.

And his room just underlined it: a wall was occupied entirely by a white closet with volleyball posters (interesting), a shelf on the opposite wall that served as a bookcase on which were placed various decorative objects like one of those glass balls with water and fake snow inside, a miniature volleyball, a figurine in the shape of a sitting fox. A chair on which sat several t-shirts of every existent color. A black duffle bag with the zipper half closed in the corner.

He did not know how much time had passed when he began to drag himself, still half asleep, down the stairs, to the kitchen that he remembered seeing the day before. 

He saw Miya standing in front of the stove. 

“Good morning" he said with that typical voice used by people who just woke up. Miya turned around.

“Oh" he said, widening his eyes when he saw him. And then he whispered more to himself “’Tsumu what didja do?”

Sakusa opened his eyes, then squeezed them, and when he opened them again, he realized that Miya was not in front of him, at least not the one he knew. 

Ah. Twins. 

"You’re the famous evil brother, right?"

"Osamu" he deadpanned and, for a few seconds they remained there, simply scrutinizing each other. 

"Where’s the stupid brother?"

This almost made Osamu giggle, he emitted a nasal sound "I'm pleased to see you are a smart guy. 'Tsumu went for his morning run, he should be back in a few minutes. Breakfast?" 

Sakusa, after carefully assessing the situation, nodded and thanked him.

While he was eating and thinking about how to find a new apartment, the door opened and a very sweaty Atsumu made his entrance. Somehow the early morning light suited him. Sakusa couldn't help but admire how it slipped undisturbed on the curves and edges of his body, as it danced on his eyelashes. He wanted to have his camera. 

"Good morning, Sakkun. Slept well?" When he saw Sakusa nodding a yes with his head he continued "No doubt! After all ya had the honor to rest in the best twin's bed" he exclaimed with one of those smiles of his.

"I don’t remember seeing him sleep in my bed." Osamu answered. 

Sakusa felt a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw the grimace on Atsumu’s face. 

But that good feeling dissipated like steam to the wind when the latter began to approach. 

"Oh, Sakkun, I see ya had the displeasure to meet the evil twin"

"Not so close" he said trying to move away "you're sweaty"

"'Tsumu stop harassing yer own guest" Osamu's tone was severe "Forgive him... huh sorry what's yer name?"

"Sakusa Kiyoomi" he replied.

A scream pierced the quiet of the kitchen "He just asked yer name?" Atsumu shouted. His brother stared at him with one of those expressions that scream 'what did I do to deserve this?'

"And you!" Atsumu pointed to Sakusa with an accusatory finger "Ya told him without batting an eye. Why didn't you do the same with me?" 

There it was again, that twisted sense of complacency.

Osamu intervened even before Sakusa was able to open his mouth.

"I imagine this is further proof of who the best twin is," he grinned. 

"Shut yer mouth, evil one" the stupid twin continued screaming.

"Since we established I'm the best, I'll take my leave and go to work. See ya later, Sakusa" 

Later… 

Would there have been a later?

...

“Omi-kun”

"No"

"Omi-kun"

"Shut up"

"Omi-Omi"

"Stop it"

"I like yer name"

"So why don't you say it properly?”

"Where's da fun in that?"

Sakusa lifted his head from the phone and rolled his eyes. He seemed to do it often in Atsumu's presence.

"What do you want?" he asked in an annoyed tone.

"Are ya really treating yer saviour like this?" he complained. 

This question was not worth the breath Sakusa would have wasted on answering.

He just kept looking for a new apartment and for a few minutes the silence descended on the living room and it felt really pleasant. At least until the irritating twin opened his mouth again.

"Look, Omi-kun, I'm going to practice and you’re going with me"   
  
Sakusa knew he had no choice this time. He was the stranger in that house. Atsumu couldn’t trust him enough to want to leave him alone. Maybe he could take a walk, go looking for a new place to spend the night. But Atsumu seemed to have other plans.  
  
"Do ya like volleyball, Omi-kun?" he asked.  
  
"Could you stop using that nickname in every sentence?"  
  
"Couldja answer my question?" A pause "Omi-kun" he added with that ridiculous smirk that Sakusa wanted to punch. _Ew_ a shiver crossed his back at the thought of touching him.  
  
"Yes" somehow the word came out of his lips as if it were not a mere statement, but a confession, an admission of guilt. And Sakusa didn’t understand why.  
  
"That’s great. Let’s go!"  
  
...  
  
After a very painful ten-minute drive, before which Sakusa had to spray the seat with disinfectant and during which he had to listen to Atsumu talk relentlessly about his team and the fact that he was a setter (obviously the best role, in his opinion) and that he was very good and that anyone who couldn't hit his tosses was nothing but a fool, they found themselves at the entrance of a gym.  
  
Atsumu led him through a door, then a corridor, another door and finally there it was the actual court.   
  
The air in there was different and Sakusa found himself inhaling deeply. It had been three weeks since he had seen a volleyball court (not counting the matches he watched on the TV) and he had to admit that he missed it.  
  
He grabbed the camera and took a picture.  
  
"I guess you don’t really want to meet the tea-  
  
Atsumu was interrupted (truly a pity if you think that Sakusa would have agreed with him) by a chorus of high-pitched voices that were getting closer and closer.  
  
With a quick leap Atsumu tried to hide behind Sakusa, taller and bigger than him. The latter winced for the closeness of the other, but the almost imperceptible movement Atsumu made to avoid touching his shoulders did not escape the corner of his eye. It was the second time it happened in two days.  
  
Sakusa saw someone running towards him and realized that the choir he thought he heard were just two very loud and energetic voices.   
  
He found himself in front of a young boy with ruffled red hair and with a pair of determined big brown eyes. The other boy was taller, more muscular, and Sakusa immediately wondered how much gel was in his hair. He reminded him of an owl, his eyes were golden, and in them there shone a fire so intense that Sakusa took a step back.  
  
"Hello" the shortest one greeted with a smile so wide that it could have saved lives "Are you a friend of Atsumu-san?" he asked, noting the Atsumu-shaped lump behind him.  
  
"No"  
  
"Omi-kun! Why do you always have to be so blunt? You’re really disrespectful!" Finally the coward decided to jump out.   
  
"Hey hey hey, Tsum-Tsum, why don’t you introduce us to your friend? Do you know that today Akaaaaashi will come to see us too?" asked the owl.   
  
"Really? I can’t believe it, you’ve only been talking about it for a week straight!"   
  
The boy ignored him and turned to Sakusa "Hey I am Bokuto Koutarou" he reached out a hand to him.  
  
Sakusa took another step back.  
  
Atsumu jumped between the two of them, always careful not to touch him and he said "Omi-kun I present you Bokuto and Hinata. He is Sakusa Kiyoomi and doesn't do…. Well, human contact. That being said, I think it’s time to go and change"  
  
"But-" Hinata started.  
  
"Shouyou-kun we hafta practice if we want to beat Tobio-kun's team"  
  
Hinata shook his head and his eyes started to burn with competitiveness, he seemed to completely forget what he was going to say a few moments before.  
  
Atsumu turned to look at him one last time "Make yerself comfortable. And take a lotta pictures!" he exclaimed before disappearing around the corner of the corridor from which they had arrived.  
  
...  
  
Sakusa had found a location that allowed him to have a clean view of the entire court.  
  
A short time after the team finished warming up, he felt some steps approaching him and, when he turned around, he found himself in front of a boy with black wavy hair and glasses that framed eyes of an indefinite color between green and a stormy-sea dark blue. He was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. He emanated an aura of tranquility and patience. Just what Sakusa needed.   
  
There was something ethereal about him.  
  
"Good afternoon" that voice suited him perfectly.   
  
"Good afternoon"  
  
A pleasant silence descended on the two.   
  
Practice finally began and Sakusa was able to admire the team at work. He had to admit that they were good. He was amazed at how high Hinata could jump and the incredible power of Bokuto’s spikes.   
  
But the real revelation was Atsumu. Sakusa would never admit it in his presence, but he had underestimated him.  
  
Atsumu played like he had the world on the palm of his hand, like he was a puppeteer and knew exactly when and how to pull the strings, how much pressure to apply and where. He made the most of every opportunity he had and took advantage of it to improve. He never asked his teammates if his tosses were good, because they were, and he knew it. And he knew how to adapt, how to respond, how to manage every resource at his disposal.  
  
This man in front of him was not pure talent, but devotion, determination, tenacity, hours and days and months of fatigue, effort, sweat.  
  
Seeing such willpower brought him back to three weeks ago when he, too, had found himself on the court, when the ball collided with his hand and then crashed to the ground, spinning violently. Then exams happened and he had to take a break from volleyball. But it was a matter of time before he could resume. The thought was comforting. He lacked that feeling of freedom.  
  
Several times he found his grip around his camera tightening and he took a picture, but for some reason he didn’t think he was catching the right moment. He clenched his hands. He felt the look of the boy at his right on him. As if he were considering him in silence.  
  
But neither of them said anything.  
  
...  
  
When practice ended, Sakusa saw Bokuto running towards the boy as he shouted, "Akaashiiii" and he watched him jump the iron bar that separated the court from the bleachers to hug him.   
  
Akaashi immediately melted in his arms and he hugged him back, smiling. That smile was so genuine, so intense in its simplicity, so light yet so expressive.  
  
There was something so intimate about that scene. In the way Akaashi said "Bokuto-san".  
  
Sakusa took a picture before he left.  
  
But peace wasn't meant to last. Atsumu went to him. Needless to say, he was grinning. "Omi-kun, didja enjoy the show?"   
  
Sakusa just stared at him.  
  
"Ya know that silence means yes" he winked "Anyway you have to stay a little longer because I need to practice a bit more by myself"  
  
"Ok"   
  
"Wouldja like to help me out or are there too many germs on a volleyball or something?"  
  
Sakusa waited a little before answering, sorting out his thoughts.  
  
"Yeah"  
  
"Are ya answering the first or the second question?"  
  
"First"  
  
Atsumu frowned, then he smiled the honest smile of those who just received good news without expecting it.  
  
....  
  
When Atsumu found out that Sakusa also played volleyball, he started annoying him into practicing with him.  
  
Sakusa had repeatedly sprayed the clothes he offered to him with disinfectant, not to mention the shoes, wearing them was a torture. But he endured.  
  
He prepared for the spike.  
  
He jumped.  
  
And the ball was right there.  
  
So easy to hit.   
  
And it crushed on the floor of the gym.   
  
He had missed it so much.  
  
He clenched his hand in a fist.  
  
He perceived Atsumu’s eyes scrutinizing him with such intensity that they emanated an aura of their own.  
  
"So, Omi-kun? How was it?"  
  
Sakusa was really tempted to say that it was too short just to spite him, but he didn’t like saying things he didn’t mean.  
  
"Good " his tone was neutral.   
  
"Just good?" he asked, pouting.   
  
"What does 'good' mean for you?"  
  
"Not enough. But I know ya think my toss was perfect"  
  
"So why did you ask?"  
  
"Curiosity"  
  
Atsumu wasn't satisfied by the silence that had descended onto the court. He opened his eyes as if a ball had just hit him right in the face.   
  
"Omi-Omi, what the hell is your wrist?"  
  
Sakusa bent his wrist and saw Atsumu’s mouth fall open "How is that possible???" Sakusa imagined that there was more than one question mark at the end of the question.   
  
They trained for about another hour.  
  
"I had fun tossing for ya, Omi-kun" Atsumu smiled at him.   
  
"Hitting your tosses is not that bad" he deadpanned.  
  
"We should do it again"  
  
Sakusa nodded.  
  
...  
  
When they finished Sakusa felt tired, he just wanted to close his eyes and wait for all his problems to solve themselves. Today, for the first time after what felt like years, his head had been light, his body had felt alive.   
  
He couldn’t wait to go home.  
  
Then he remembered that he didn’t have a home.  
  
"Look, Miya, I’ll be out of your house tonight, I just have to pick up my things and-   
  
"You don’t have a place to go, do you?"  
  
"I'll find it"  
  
"No way, Omi-Omi!"  
  
And all Sakusa could do was stare at him.  
  
In that moment, with the lights of the city outside the car window, everything seemed so surreal, as if the moment was floating in a sea of fog and wandering thoughts.   
  
_Why do I keep missing all the perfect moments?_   
  
"I can't live at your place forever"  
  
"Stay 'till you find a new apartment"  
  
"But your brother-   
  
"'Samu won’t be home these days"  
  
"But this morning-"  
  
"Are ya really going to sleep on the street, Sakusa? Think of all those germs climbing up on your skin and ..."   
  
Sakusa didn’t follow the rest of the sentence.  
  
He didn't know if it was because of tiredness, despair or just the fact that Atsumu had finally called him by his name, but Sakusa agreed.   
  
He leaned his head on the seat (obviously disinfected a second time as a precaution).  
  
_What’s going on?_ He asked himself.  
  
But his mind wasn’t ready for the answer.

...   
  
Atsumu was ready for his morning run.   
  
He was about to open the door when a deep, hoarse voice stopped him and asked him to wait.   
  
They went out together, ran together, side by side (but at a safe distance) and did not utter a word.   
  
...   
  
"I found a new apartment"   
  
Both had recently returned home: Atsumu from practice, Sakusa from university. At that moment, they were sitting at either end of the couch and watching a movie, but it was clear that neither of them were really following it.    
  
The silence between them was not the same as that morning's, it seemed to have lost its calmness, its being comfortable.    
  
"Ya were quick, Omi-kun"   
  
"I wanted to get out of your house as soon as possible"   
  
"Ah, ya hurt me" he brought a hand on his heart playfully "Ya think I’m so repulsive you want to get away as soon as possible?"   
  
"Among other things"   
  
"You are despicable and ungrateful"   
  
"However, fate was not so kind to me"   
  
One thing Atsumu had noticed about Sakusa is that he never spoke too long sentences, he often talked using only monosyllables. This confused him because the guy seemed to have a lot to say. Or perhaps he was mistaken: Sakusa had much to communicate, but very little to say.    
  
He encouraged him to continue.   
  
"I have to wait a week or two before it is available"    
  
Atsumu did not ask why, he did not care to know, nor did he doubt Sakusa's words.   
  
"Ya know ya can stay, dontcha?"   
  
"Yes, but I don’t think that’s the case"   
  
"Why are you so complicated, Omi-Omi?" he said almost exasperated.   
  
"Well, I'm thinking about your brother who-   
  
"Stop thinking about 'Samu! I already told ya he won’t be home for at least a week, a few more days won’t cost him anything, believe me. Besides, you still owe me a photo shoot. And if you prove yourself worthy, I could recommend ya to the team photography staff. See? There are only silver linings."   
  
There was a long pause during which Atsumu imagined that Sakusa was weighing his offer on the scales and carefully analysing all the pros and cons, leaving nothing to detail because Sakusa was that kind of person.   
  
"Why would you do that?" That’s all he said, and Atsumu knew what he meant, but he wanted to hear it, he wanted Sakusa to ask him even though he didn’t have an answer.    
  
"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.   
  
"Why are you doing all this for me?" and he seemed lost, heartbroken.    
  
"Because I’ve seen you in trouble and I’m an extremely kind person"   
  
He watched Sakusa lift his left eyebrow.   
  
"All right, Omi-kun. The truth is, I have no idea, okay? When ya got that call, I practically watched ya die in front of me, and I just didn’t like it. So why are ya looking for a reason? Do you always have to think about things a thousand times before doing them? I acted out of instinct and you indulge me. And you know what the weirdest thing is, Omi-kun? That even though you have yer weird quirks and you’re not exactly a people's person, I’m having fun. So why shouldn’t I do this for ya?" he said and hoped it was enough to make him understand that there were no problems.    
  
"You’re crazy" but it didn’t sound like an accusation and, for what was worth, it was enough for Atsumu.   
  
"Is that news for ya, Omi-kun?" he smiled.   
  
"No" (here it was! His favorite monosyllable!)   
  
They went back to watching television, but both were clearly bored, so Atsumu decided to find a solution.    
  
"Omi-Omi, I challenge ya!"   
  
Sakusa turned around and it took Atsumu just one look at his eyebrows to understand how confused he was.    
  
"I challenge ya to compete against me at one of the most important tournaments in human history!"   
  
Five minutes later, they both found themselves with a joystick in their hands.   
  
"Seriously? Mario Kart?" Sakusa asked, scowling.   
  
"Are ya afraid of losing, Omi-kun?" he said his nickname slowly, scanning each syllable and saw his back stiff, it was such a quick movement to go almost unnoticed, but not for Atsumu, accustomed to keeping an eye on not only one, but both of the court's sides separated by a net.   
  
"I wanted to give you a chance to back out while you still can," he said cheerfully, or so Atsumu dared to think.   
  
"As if ya could beat me"   
  
Several tracks later the score was seven even. So they decided to make a final race to determine the winner. The battleground was the nefarious Rainbow Road, which had earned the title of 'all the runners' nightmare'.   
  
They both made a good start. They soon found themselves competing for the first and second place and just on the last lap, just a few meters before the finish line, Sakusa’s car (currently in second position) approached Atsumu’s, not fast enough to surpass, but enough to flank it and, at the right angle, hit it and push it off the track.    
  
Atsumu gave such a loud scream that it could be categorised as an ultrasound.   
  
"YA CHEATED, OMI-KUN! YA KNEW YA HAD ZERO CHANCES AND YA HAD TO RESORT TO YOUR TREACHEROUS TRICKS!"   
  
"Am I hearing a sour loser's words?" Sakusa teased.   
  
"Ya don’t seem to have a lot of trouble playing dirty for a clean freak" he got up.   
  
"Where are you goin-   
  
Before he could finish the sentence, Atsumu sprayed him with his own disinfectant.   
  
"To cleanse ya of yer filthy sins"    
  
And he could swear he saw the sides of his lips twitch upward, but that movement was too quick even for him.    
  
Maybe he should have started observing him more closely.

...

The next day, it was Atsumu who attended Sakusa’s training.   
  
Of course, he hadn't been invited.   
  
It had happened like this:    
  
"Omi-kun, where are ya going with my duffel?"   
  
"Take a guess"   
  
"I'm coming with ya"   
  
“No”   
  
“Yes”    
  
“No”   
  
“Yes”    
  
"I'm leaving. Don't follow me"   
  
Atsumu had followed him.   
  
And now there he is, sitting and enjoying the show.    
  
Sakusa ignored him and spiked and received and served and blocked like no one was watching, like he couldn't feel the cunning and attentive eyes of a fox on his back.   
  
When it was time to go he decided to take advantage of the fact that, for sure, a professional volleyball player like Atsumu didn't go unnoticed. Obviously his teammates noticed him, of course they recognized him and of course they approached him. So he tried to exploit this opportunity to continue ignoring him and quietly leave the gym.   
  
He had not yet comprehended why Atsumu was so excited to watch his training, but he knew he should not care so much. But there was something uncomfortable about feeling his gaze on him, like the guinea pig of some scientific experiment, completely unaware of what was going on or why.   
  
He had successfully exited the door.   
  
He had set out for Atsumu’s house.    
  
After about ten minutes of walking he heard an irritating voice to his left.    
  
"Omi-kun"   
  
He winced. How did he get so close so fast?   
  
"Keep calm, Omi"   
  
"How long have you been following me?”   
  
"Since you came out of the gym" he said with an innocent smile.   
  
"Impossible"   
  
"And yet here I am. Flesh and bone"   
  
"You’re lying"   
  
Sakusa couldn’t have missed that disturbing presence by his side. It was simply unthinkable, inconceivable.    
  
"I saw ya were so proud to have managed to escape me and I decided not to ruin yer moment of glory" he claimed with false kindness.   
  
"How considerate" he answered sarcastically.   
  
"Don’t thank me, deluding you just made it more fun to see yer face"   
  
Sakusa started walking faster.   
  
"Omi-Omi, where are you running? Considering the events that have just happened, do ya really think ya can escape me?" he laughed.    
  
Sakusa continued to pretend that he did not exist.   
  
"Remember that I have the key to the house" he cried after him as he was about to reach him.    
  
Sakusa did not stop.    
  
Even if he couldn't see him he knew that Atsumu was smiling behind his back.   
  
...   
  
"Yer setter is not enough for ya, Omi-kun" Atsumu said all of a sudden during dinner "Yer whole team is not enough for ya"   
  
Sakusa kind of knew it, but he did not give it too much importance. After all, he gave up his professional career when he chose to enroll in university, when he decided to devote himself to volleyball only as a hobby, not as a life’s work.   
  
"So?"    
  
"Ya deserve better"   
  
"No"   
  
"Someone who recognizes your strength"   
  
"Someone like you?" he asked skeptically.   
  
"Of course. Who else?" he answered almost offended.    
  
"You’re a little too cocky"   
  
"I know my worth. The question here is: do ya know yours?"   
  
Sakusa didn't have an answer, so he stayed silent.   
  
...   
  
"Guess where I’m taking ya today, Omi-Omi?"   
  
"No"   
  
"But ya don’t even know what I’m going to say"   
  
"If  _ you _ ’re going to say it, it mustn't be any good"   
  
It was four o'clock in the afternoon, too early to deal with Atsumu.    
  
Unfortunately, Sakusa lived with him, which meant having to hear every stupid thing that came out of his mouth twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.   
  
There are many types of days: those in which you feel strangely happy, those in which everything is a great "no", those in which you feel the need for a change or those that can be defined 'normal'. During these days time is quietly marked by the ticking of the hands of a clock and people simply continue to go on, step by step, breath by breath. Each of these days had a different way of touching the strings of the soul. Sakusa had often wondered what this multitude of states, this flow of mood, was due: perhaps it depended on how you spent the previous day or perhaps on how you slept during the night or on some unconscious stimulus.   
  
But that day was not a good day and Sakusa did not want to get out of bed.    
  
So he’d spent most of the time laying there, except for meal breaks and occasional bathroom breaks.    
  
Sakusa could have lived on that bed. Too bad it wasn’t his.    
  
Too bad someone had other plans for him.    
  
"Omi-kuuuun you can’t stay there all day long"    
  
"Watch me"   
  
"It’s not good for your health, Omi" he shouted.    
  
_ Oh, it's way too soon to deal with this  _ he thought while hiding his head under the covers.   
  
"Come on, Omi, come out. Believe me, you don’t want to be in 'Samu's bed, you don’t know the filthy things that were done up there"   
  
"The sheets were changed" he retorted.   
  
"The weight of the sin remains"   
  
Sakusa said nothing.    
  
"C'mon, Omi. Get up. We’re going shopping today. I bet ya need clothes too"    
  
Because most of your clothes have already become ashes, that’s what was implied.   
  
"No" he hoped his tone would let Atsumu know that the conversation was over.    
  
It must have worked because the silence fell on the room.   
  
Just in case, just to be sure, Sakusa decided not to resurface immediately. The blanket was light, but for some reason it seemed to be very hot, probably because of the afternoon sun filtering through the window.    
  
"Omi-kun"   
  
Sakusa got stiff. That voice, that whisper came from too close. How did he approach him so silently for the second time in two days? He felt a shiver running down his spine. Suddenly the temperature seemed to rise by several degrees and the cause had to be the left ear. Atsumu must have touched it through the covers with his lips in an attempt to surprise him and now it was burning.    
  
_ What’s going on? _ _  
_   
"Don’t ever do it again" He scolded him as he came out of his hiding place, his voice was hoarse and gloomy.    
  
"Oh, look who’s back. Scared, Omi-kun?"   
  
"I hate you" he stated with infinite contempt.   
  
Atsumu tilted his head, then he gave him his typical smug grin.    
  
"Oh no" he said dramatically "How will I sleep tonight after this shocking and unexpected revelation? Omi-kun, ya ruined me" he pretended to faint.    
  
Sakusa threw him a pillow with all the strength he could muster.    
  
Sadly, it wasn’t enough to kill him.   
  
He should have worked on that.   
  
...   
  
In the end Sakusa had agreed to go out, not because Atsumu had convinced him, but only because he couldn't stand his constant complaints and his unbearable voice.    
  
Shopping wasn’t one of his favorite hobbies. He hated it: going from one store (possibly crowded) to another (possibly crowded) and try on clothes that who knows how many other people had touched, if not worn, how many germs, how imprudent-   
  
Sakusa forced himself not to follow that train of thoughts because he feared it would be enough to make him turn and start running in the opposite direction to the one he was following at Atsumu’s side.    
  
But Sakusa was not stupid, he knew that he needed to fill his new, metaphorical, closet now that his old, not so metaphorical, closet was gone.   
  
"Omi-kun, a photo here!" Atsumu exclaimed as they passed by a colored bench. Sakusa didn’t perceive anything special, but he knew that the little things, the things that people tended to leave out, sometimes hid something more complex. Surely Atsumu saw it differently. Everyone had their own truth.   
  
Sakusa had stopped wondering about Atsumu's reasons a few days after he met him.   
  
"Omi-kun, here’s perfect!" he shouted when they stopped in front of a house with a particular facade.   
  
They had been walking like that for a while: Atsumu enthusiastic and full of energy, Sakusa silent and bored. All he did was raise his camera and shoot.   
  
Until they found themselves on a bridge and he felt the need to say: "Miya, why don’t you take a picture up here, you know the first time I managed to only photograph the final part of your show" he felt a smile surface on the lips, but he held it.    
  
"OMI-OMI, LET ME FORGET! " When he screamed, many turned to look at him as if they were looking at an annoying fly, as if they were accustomed to his presence, but they didn't find it pleasant. Others chuckled, some girls approached and asked Atsumu for pictures.   
  
"Don't look at me like that, Omi. Are ya jealous of my fanbase?"   
  
"Do you really expect me to answer that?"   
  
"Of course"   
  
Sakusa rolled his eyes.   
  
"Pose" he ordered pointing at the handrail.   
  
Atsumu smiled and spread his arms.   
  
...   
  
Finally they arrived at the mall.   
  
Atsumu, Sakusa discovered, was a real shopping maniac. He should have expected it, given the shapeless heap of clothes that lived not only in his closet, but also on his bed and on the chair he kept in his room.    
  
They had just entered the third store of the day Atsumu already had two bags full of purchases.    
  
"There’s no way ya haven’t bought anything yet, Omi!"   
  
"I didn’t like anything"    
  
"No no no, Omi-kun, from now on I’ll help ya"   
  
"Should this make me feel okay?"   
  
"Never"   
  
They began their search, this time they did not separate and, after much discussion, managed to agree on a series of shirts, sweatshirts, t-shirts and pants that Sakusa should have tried on.   
  
Luckily the shop was relatively empty and few people were rummaging around here and there.   
  
There was no one in the dressing rooms.   
  
As Atsumu sat on a stool and laid his new treasures on the ground, Sakusa sighed and entered the nearest box.    
  
When he came out with that obscene pastel green shirt with kiwis printed on it, Atsumu took one hand to his mouth, then the other.   
  
"I never thought somethin’ like this would look so good on someone, but I’m pleasantly surprised. It almost makes you look nice and cute"   
  
Sakusa scowled.    
  
"Don't want it"   
  
He moved on to the next piece: an extra-large mustard yellow sweatshirt. It was really comfortable and the material was neither too light nor too heavy, plus it had a huge hood.   
  
He could clearly see how Atsumu’s eyes opened wide when he saw him.   
  
He felt himself on trial.   
  
"I like it. You should buy it"   
  
"Maybe"   
  
"Yellow suits ya" Atsumu said and, for some obscure reason that Sakusa did not want to discover, that simple phrase shook him. He blinked.   
  
He turned around and went back to the dressing room.   
  
He was trying on a t-shirt with the words 'Art is a way of survival' when he heard the other's voice call him.    
  
He saw him holding a black sweatshirt with the inscription 'I just eye rolled so hard I think I hurt myself’ in white.    
  
"Please, Omi-kun, try this one, it’s  _ yours _ , it was made for  _ you _ "    
  
Sakusa liked it so why not?    
  
In the end he found himself with a small pile of clothes that he had decided to buy, he had to admit reluctantly that most of them had been Atsumu’s suggestion.   
  
"Hey, Omi, do you like these two T-shirts? Before ya say no, I don’t intend to make you wear ‘em"   
  
"Who are you going to buy them for?" he looked at them, one was grey, the other was black, no big deal, but not to be discarded.   
  
"I happen to feel generous today so I decided to give a gift to 'Samu and his not that better half for their anniversary" he said with false kindness.   
  
Both t-shirts were designed for a man.    
  
Ah.    
  
"You should take them. The gray one is good for your brother"   
  
Atsumu nodded.    
  
"Ya thought 'Samu had a girlfried, didn't ya?"   
  
This time it was Sakusa’s turn to nod and bow his head.   
  
"Ya know, Omi, according to the legend one of the twins is always gay, and I'm adding 'tasteless when it comes to boyfriends'" he said giggling.    
  
"I take it you’re the straight twin with a tas-   
  
"HA!" he was abruptly interrupted "'Course not, Omi-kun, I am the bisexual twin and with good taste"   
  
"Of course" he said sarcastically.    
  
"Well, at the end of the day there must always be a better twin" He shrugged.   
  
While they were paying, Sakusa continued to reflect on that information. Atsumu didn't have to tell him, but he decided to. He decided to trust him. And he was grateful for that. Not that he was going to say it to him.   
  
Just to stay on topic, as soon as they came out Atsumu saw a rainbow printed sweatshirt in one of the many windows around them.   
  
"I want it" he said and rushed to the automatic door.    
  
When Sakusa reached him he was already inside the dressing room.    
  
The problem arose when the tent pulled away.   
  
The sweatshirt was very large, the sleeves were huge and much longer than his arms, the label sat on his shoulder.    
  
And Atsumu was smiling like a baby who just got candy and he almost seemed to emanate a light of his own so intense that Sakusa felt the heat and it made something in his stomach melt and   
  
Click.    
  
For the first time since he knew him, he felt like he had caught the right moment.   
  
...   
  
Three days passed by.   
  
Atsumu had tried to spend as much time as possible with Sakusa: they had gone around taking pictures, they had practiced together, they had gone shopping.    
  
Today they decided to rest and spend the whole day on the couch watching various movies of various kinds, alternating them with old games of Atsumu's team.   
  
"I'll take something to eat" Sakusa told him while standing up " Do you want anything?" Atsumu shook his head.   
  
Sakusa nodded.   
  
His conversations with Sakusa were often like this, small silent movements: a finger pointing at something on a shelf, a wave with the hand, a very slight smile, almost imperceptible, from behind a mask. Sometimes, just before saying good night, Atsumu had the chance to see that smile for a fraction of a second before Sakusa closed the door on his face.    
  
Sakusa had dimples.   
  
He would have liked to see them more often.    
  
He would also have liked to be able to finish that thought, sadly a cry pierced the pleasant silence of his living room.   
  
Wait. Sakusa Kiyoomi was screaming? That was a new one. A disaster must have happened.    
  
Atsumu rushed into the kitchen, but he didn’t see him. He looked around, but still no trace of Sakusa.    
  
_ What if Oikawa was right about the aliens?  _ He thought in a moment of weakness and confusion.    
  
But that was impossible.   
  
"Omi-kun?" he whispered   
  
"Here"    
  
But the voice came from upstairs. Atsumu reached him on the stairs (obviously two steps away) and asked him what was going on.    
  
"There" he pointed to a kitchen wall.   
  
"Where?"   
  
"There" Atsumu tried to follow the line of his gaze and finally saw it.   
  
"Ah. The cockroach?"   
  
He watched him swallow.    
  
"Omi-kun, are ya scared of cockroaches?" he laughed.    
  
He earned a look capable of killing almost everyone, fortunately Atsumu had been immune to it from the beginning.    
  
"Kill it!" he ordered, eyes full of terror, but also terrifying.    
  
"But why, Omi? It’s so cute. We could adopt it" he kept laughing.   
  
"Do you have any idea how many diseases cockroaches carry?"   
  
"No" he replied innocently.   
  
"If you don’t kill it right now, I’m gonna burn your kitchen down" he said with a very serious look and the dark voice of someone who just remembered that their home had been destroyed by fire a few days ago.    
  
This guy had something for fires.    
  
"And how are you gonna do that?" he challenged him.    
  
"With matches"   
  
"But those are over there, Omi-kun" he smiled at him, pleased, pointing at the kitchen "Do ya intend to venture into the territory of that dangerous beast?" he brought the back of his hand to his forehead for emphasis.   
  
He saw him stiffen.   
  
"Kill it!" he repeated.   
  
Atsumu pretended to think about it "What's the magic word, Omi-kun?"   
  
"Abracadabra" he said not to give him satisfaction.   
  
Atsumu stiffened. Then he started laughing and couldn’t stop. Sakusa’s joke was not funny at all, but it was that flat (slightly horrified) tone he had used, Atsumu would have died laughing before approaching the cockroach.   
  
"Who would have thought that our Omi-Omi also had a sense of humor?"   
  
"Hurry up!"   
  
"It's still not the right word, no no"   
  
"Miya" he said vehemently.   
  
"Tell me everything" he encouraged, ignoring the danger in his voice.   
  
Sakusa sighed, then breathed in, and said, "Please" grinding his teeth.   
  
"Oh, Omi if you ask me so kindly-"   
  
"Hurry up!"    
  
Atsumu raised his arms. He had enjoyed the show as long as it lasted, and it had been a magnificent show.    
  
He quickly got rid of Sakusa’s new friend.   
  
Sakusa did not calm down until Atsumu disposed of the monster’s corpse.   
  
"Fear not, Omi-kun, I have lived with worse beasts than this"   
  
He frowned in confusion and disgust.   
  
"I was referring to Osamu," he chuckled.   
  
Sakusa stared at him for a few seconds.   
  
"I’m going to take a shower" he said, then he vanished.   
  
...   
  
The week ended quickly and for Sakusa it was almost time to go: the next day he would have been gone.    
  
For some reason he did not feel relieved. But he decided not to overthink.   
  
That night they practiced in Atsusmu's team gym.    
  
Sakusa jumped and ran and spiked relentlessly. He had the feeling that if he had stopped all the thoughts he had pushed to the bottom of his mind would have reached him and it wouldn't have been pleasant.    
  
Atsumu’s tosses were perfect, as usual and they were so easy to hit. But Sakusa was perfectly aware of the concentration and attention that Atsumu put into every single touch just to make it look so easy.    
  
"Do ya want to stop, Omi-kun?" he asked him and in his voice Sakusa felt a sad note.    
  
"No"   
  
And they continued. Until the spiker’s fingers hurt.    
  
"Oh, Omi" he said, looking at Sakusa's hands "Wait here, I have some tape"   
  
So Sakusa sat on the nearest bench and waited. Bad choice. Those thoughts were gradually coming closer. It wasn't possible to ignore them for much longer.   
  
Luckily for him, it didn’t take long for the other to emerge from the corridor that connected the court to the locker room.   
  
Atsumu sat in front of him and he was about to pass the tape to him, then he thought about it and asked "If I swear I washed my hands would you let me do it?" his voice seemed so fragile, so light, but at the same time solemn and Sakusa wanted to tell him that he didn't want their hands to touch and-    
  
He quietly handed him his hand.   
  
Every now and then his body seemed to react unconsciously, because the brain kept saying 'No no no no no' but his arm replied 'Yes yes yes yes yes' and Sakusa didn’t know who was right, but most of the time the impulse was the winner.   
  
He shuddered when their fingers touched and breathed in loudly when Atsumu grabbed his wrist.    
  
His hands were so warm.   
  
"Is this alright?" Sakusa nodded slowly.   
  
"Hey, Omi, couldja do that thing with your wrist?" Sakusa knitted his brows, but at last he bent it over and saw Atsumu's face glowing with a small smile when the articulation flexed perfectly in half.    
  
"It’s funny" he whispered as he began to wrap the tape on his right index finger.   
  
And Sakusa made the great mistake of looking at his eyes, so caught up in the work he was doing, with such intensity that it moved something in his stomach.   
  
He didn’t know what he would do if those eyes were fixed on his own.    
  
"You must be careful, Omi-kun"    
  
And then he made the even greater mistake of looking at their hands, his own right hand surrendered to the heat of the others, abandoning itself to Atsumu's diligent care.   
  
Every single point of contact was a dart of fire and Sakusa was not ready he was not ready he was not ready for the thoughts that made their way through all his being and that became clearer and clearer.   
  
"Learn to take care of yourself"   
  
And then he died.   
  
He died because he made the unforgivable mistake of lifting his head just as Atsumu lifted his own and now the fear that their eyes might meet had become reality. He was terrified but he couldn’t take his eyes off him, couldn’t get away from those thoughts.   
  
Miya Atsumu had violated the safe distance.   
  
Sakusa Kiyoomi was the one who gave him permission to do so and it was too much for him and where was his camera when he needed it? Where was his protective veil? Where was his voice?   
  
Atsumu smiled and Sakusa wanted wanted wanted-   
  
"Done. If ya want we can go back to training or, if it hurts too much, we can go home"   
  
Sakusa got up and went to the cart full of balls "Are you coming or?"   
  
They continued to train for what seemed hours.    
  
Sakusa imagined that each ball had its own face on it, so that he could slap himself as hard as possible with every spike.   
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inhales deeply* so basically shit happened and school was mining my mental stability so it took me more than I expected to translate this chapter, but here it is.  
> I'm still sorry for my english, but it's not my first language sooo please forgive me.  
> I feel the need to clarify that this fic is 100% self indulgent and it started as a way for me to analyze the characters's reactions to stuff, but I ended up here.  
> That being said, hope you enjoy!

Sakusa had thought about it. All night long.  
  
Had it been enough? Of course not.   
  
And here he was, up at five in the morning, making coffee. While waiting for it to be ready, he continued to ponder the events of the night before, until he came to the conclusion that there was nothing to worry about: the cause of all those strange sensations was not Atsumu, but physical contact. It’s been a long time since Sakusa let himself be so close to another person that he forgot how that closeness felt like, how much devastation a light touch, skin on skin, could produce.  
  
But this time it was different, more vivid, more acute.   
  
Sakusa had also found an answer to this: it was like touching the essence of a memory, a nostalgic desire to have it again, it was like losing something important, meaningful and, after searching for it everywhere without any positive result, when you’re almost resigned to live without it, it magically lets itself be found, when and where you least expect it. Surprise and happiness are soon replaced by a sense of bizarre melancholy, you can understand only in that moment how much you’ve missed it. For anyone it might seem irrelevant, but for you it was a serious matter, like recovering a piece, big or small, of your world.  
  
So all the... things he had felt the day before had such an overwhelming impact on him because of his unconscious need to be touched by another human being.   
  
End of discussion.  
  
Would fate be on Sakusa's side? Of course not.  
  
Because right at that moment he heard Miya Atsumu's voice behind him, marked by sleep and confusion, saying that stupid nickname that he had given him and who knows why Sakusa felt breathless.  
  
"Omi-kun, whatcha doin'?"  
  
Sakusa told himself that he wouldn't turn around, doing so could prove to be dangerous in at least seven different ways.   
  
He turned around.   
  
_When you'll stop hurting yourself, give me a ring_ his mind chuckled.  
  
They’d been living together for over a week now, but Sakusa had never seen him like this.   
  
This Miya Atsumu was an indescribable sight, a ball of yellow mist with his slightly crooked back and his half-closed brown eyes and his ruffled hair all protruding to one side and, _oh no_ he had just passed a hand through that hair making it an intricate nest of light blond wires. They looked so soft.  
  
"Coffee. You want some?" He strived to respond as if no hurricane was raging within him, as if every fiber of his body was not shouting to run for a shelter.  
  
"No, thanks" and he had the audacity to smile, so slowly that it killed Sakusa’s common sense.  
  
"I couldn’t sleep" he told him.   
  
"Ya can’t wait to leave, huh?" His second smile didn’t reach the eyes.  
  
Sakusa wanted to escape.  
  
…  
  
That last day together they decided, or rather Atsumu decided for both of them, to take a walk after dinner and, immediately after that, he would accompany him to his new apartment.   
  
They ended up arriving at the park where they had met.  
  
The artificial light of the lanterns and lampposts immersed the place into a dreamlike atmosphere, so surreal that it seemed that everything was possible. But Sakusa was a realist and preferred to remain grounded.   
  
Atsumu suddenly stopped in front of a tree and decided to sit with his back to the trunk. After a brief moment of hesitation, Sakusa imitated him.  
  
They remained silent for a while. But it wasn’t the kind of comfortable silence that you feel when you’re cozy, it was tense, nervous, full of screams that didn’t dare come out and Sakusa couldn’t stand it. He wanted to break it, but this would have meant starting a conversation, which would have almost certainly led to Atsumu saying “Omi-kun" and variations with his irritating voice and Sakusa did not want (was not ready) to take the risk, he wasn’t prepared for the consequences. So he kept his mouth shut and hoped that Atsumu would hurry up and fill that gap between them.   
  
"Omi-kun" he should have expected it, and yet he had not.  
  
"Uhm" he said to let him know that he was listening. He didn’t trust his mouth, he wouldn’t let it do things its own way. What would he have said if he had the chance?   
  
Sakusa heard Atsumu take a breath, like he wanted (or needed) a break, like he was reluctant to continue.  
  
"Promise ya won’t disappear after this night." He said and tilted his head upwards making it fall lightly against the trunk.  
  
"Eh?" He wasn’t sure he understood.  
  
"Just tell me you’re gonna keep in touch every now and then" his smile was sad.  
  
Sakusa wasn't sure he had ever seen him so… quiet. No, the right term was 'transparent'. He had always considered Atsumu as an overlap of different layers, when he did or said something it always felt like there was something else underneath, another veil covering a deeper level, but it was impossible to lift it without the owner’s permission.   
  
Now every single veil seemed to have been removed and the result was a new, different creature, but at the same time so similar to the initial one, a more complex being, difficult to assimilate all in one breath.   
  
"I still have to send you the photos I took"  
  
"And after that?"  
  
Sakusa could have easily said that he would keep in touch with him, but was that what he wanted? Intimately he already knew the answer, but a part of him still wanted to deny it. On the other hand, every single part of him wanted to know the reason for so much concern for him. Atsumu had already told him that he was having fun with him, that his company was much more pleasant than he expected, but now, why was this so important? Why did it mean so much?  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"'Cause ya look like the kind of person who, when it’s no longer strictly necessary, cuts off all contact with others. Plus, you’re just the kind of person who tends to visualize a message without ever bothering to respond. I would also dare to add that, apparently, ya have no friends, so talking to someone might make yer life a bit less miserable."  
  
"Is this your twisted way of telling me you’re gonna miss me?" Sakusa mocked him.  
  
"You’re not moving to the other side of the world, I can always come and see ya, why should I miss you?" he said in a sharp tone.   
  
Sakusa decided to keep quiet. It was a question he didn’t want to answer.  
  
"I’m so selfish, Omi-kun" he whispered after a few minutes.   
  
Sakusa turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were closed. With the faint light to illuminate his face he seemed to belong to another world.   
  
"I want to keep ya with me a bit more, Omi. I’m afraid that as soon as I let go of my grip, you will go away" he opened his eyes and Sakusa understood that there had to be something underneath, a sad story that must have marked him, because the sadness in that look crept into his bones.  
  
"Miya..." he tried, he tried really hard to find the right words, but they all seemed stuck at an eternal red light in his throat.  
  
Atsumu brought a hand to his forehead and gave the most fake giggle in the history of fake giggles "Don’t listen to me, Omi-kun, I suffer from abandonment issues and I’m projecting them onto you." He tried to give him his usual fox-like smile.   
  
It didn’t work.   
  
"What do you mean?" why did he want to know?  
  
Atsumu lowered his gaze, as if contemplating the two options at his disposal: would he open up to him or would he hide behind his more superficial veil?  
  
"'Samu and I have been playing together for years, ya know?" Apparently he chose the first option "We were a strong duo, really strong -you should have seen us- and they were really fun years. It was always an open competition between us -it's still like that, but before it was… different- we were always trying to overtake each other and hold the line, and I never cared about the others, because I knew that wherever I went, no matter how far I'd go, 'Samu would be there, next to me, or a little behind or maybe, if we overestimate him, a little ahead of me. He would be there and everything would be fine, because he was there" he stopped to look at Sakusa, straight in the eye, with a grim expression and said "If ya dare say a word about this to my brother, you’re dead."  
  
He leaned his head upon the tree again and continued "However, what we had wasn't meant to last. I remember perfectly the moment when 'Samu told me he wanted to quit volleyball, we had a big fight: he wanted to sell stupid rice balls. But I wanted to go forward too, and I wouldn’t stop. I had to learn to let him go, but it really hurt, Omi, it was so damn hard to get used to run alone, you just turn around and know that there’s no longer someone by your side."  
  
"This is the story. Not as exciting as ya thought, huh? The point is: I don’t like it when people go away." He shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t just drop a bomb on Sakusa's.  
  
It seemed like Atsumu wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. And something twisted in Sakusa’s chest, something broke, an unbridgeable void was created.   
  
After a long silence that stretched out for what felt like hours to him, Sakusa decided to confide enough in his treacherous mouth.  
  
"You’ve come a long way" he whispered.  
  
He felt Atsumu stiffen.  
  
...  
  
In the end Sakusa told him that he had no intention of abandoning him, that they would keep in touch and that they could practice together from time to time. He even invited him to come over to his apartment sometime and Atsumu had assured him that his house's door would always be open for him.   
  
…  
  
Atsumu helped him to settle in his new home. It was a cozy place, not too spacious, but all in all comfortable.  
  
When they finished, Atsumu handed him a paper bag with a bow.  
  
"I decided to give you a gift to celebrate, Omi-kun" that sly smile was back on his face and, for the first time, Sakusa didn’t mind seeing it.  
  
He looked at the gift, sprayed it with disinfectant, and decided it was safe enough to take it "Can I open it now or should I wait for you to leave the scene?"  
  
"Now of course, I wouldn’t miss your reaction for anything else in the world"  
  
Sakusa grabbed the two handles and pulled gently not to damage the bag.  
  
When he saw the contents he rolled his eyes. It was that horrible pastel green shirt with the kiwis printed on it, the one that he explicitly said he didn’t want.  
  
"No" he said flatly.  
  
"Don’t be shy, Omi-kun " Atsumu chuckled.  
  
"I’ll never wear it"  
  
"Come on"  
  
"No"  
  
"Just once, for me"  
  
"No"  
  
"I still have a lotta time to convince ya, Omi-kun" he winked.   
  
"Good luck"  
  
Atsumu looked at him for a while, then smiled "Won't need it"  
  
Sakusa decided to ignore the voice in his head whispering _He’s right, and you know it.  
_  
...  
  
The days passed and Sakusa managed to finish his studies brilliantly, despite the difficulties. The volleyball championship had also been a success and, after the last victory of his team, he was awarded the title of MVP of collegiate volleyball league.   
  
It was time to decide what to do with his life.   
  
Sakusa was not sure.  
  
On the one hand he could look for a job inherent with his degree, on the other hand there was a career as a professional photographer. And there was also a third option, one that Sakusa refused to consider, but remained there, glued to a corner of his mind and it was impossible to remove.  
  
Sakusa thought he was done with volleyball, he thought he could leave it behind, and yet there he was, unable to give up, to give it the final farewell.  
  
A part of him, a big fat part of him, couldn’t say no. He didn’t know why he cared so much about a sport, especially one where you have to play in a team, with other people, but he liked the feeling that a good game transmitted him, he loved to challenge gravity and jump as high as possible to hit the ball, it made him feel so light, as if all his weight finally left him and he was able to focus on what was in front of him. He would have done anything to stay a little longer on the court.  
  
His relationship with Atsumu surely didn't help him: he always talked about volleyball, championships, invited him to attend both training sessions and games. Sakusa had never said no to him. Observing everything from the outside, take some photos at significant moments of the match, was… funny, but it wasn’t enough for him, and in his heart, he was aware of it.  
  
Watching all of those frenetic movements, smelling the air full of sweat and competitiveness, feeling the passion of every single player, seeing the slightest hint of a smile on the lips of someone who has just planned a winning move, but also the tension that often could be tasted on the tip of the tongue, the tears (of happiness or anger or frustration) that flowed on the cheeks of some players, the screams uttered to reclaim a ball, they were all things that Sakusa couldn’t feel through a lens. He could capture their essence, immortalize them, he had the power to make those emotions live even once they were consumed in reality, to recall the sensations through a photograph. But it wasn’t enough.  
  
Certain moments were made to exist on the skin.  
  
Atsumu had reminded him a few days ago.  
  
He had come to visit for the umpteenth time that month and they had decided to go around the city to take some photos. Sakusa remembered having let his thoughts distract him several times and having missed many important moments, moments that he would’ve liked to photograph. He remembered he had felt a little angry because of this, but Atsumu smiled at him and said "You’re not losing them, you’re living them" as if it were an obvious thing, as if those words had not upset his entire inner world.  
  
The first time Sakusa took a camera in his hands, he did it in order to learn to know himself, to understand events and memories like the one that had marked him when he was ten years old. Maybe he unconsciously wanted to hide behind a lens and exist far from that reality that seemed so scary, so sad. He was terrified of venturing beyond the confines of his own bubble, so he opted for the simplest solution, as a good coward, he fled, took refuge behind a wall as fragile as the filaments of a spider’s web, so delicate that they can be broken with a breath, but at the same time mortal for those who dare to approach too close. But he liked to delude himself, he liked to think that he had built a wall, a real fortress around him and that it was impassable, no one, not even the most skilled and strong of men, would be able to make a breach through that diamond barricade. He repeated this to himself so often that he was almost convinced it was true. Almost. He wanted to believe that he was safe, because what was outside was unpredictable, it was painful, it was terrifying. Everything was so comfortable, warm, reassuring within his personal system of certainties.  
  
He had devoted his whole life to building that imaginary limit between himself and the world. Every now and then, when he thought it necessary, he allowed himself to lower his guard and let someone in, so he managed to befriend Komori Motoya, his high school teammate. But somehow this time was different.   
  
Sakusa Kiyoomi had spent years preparing to defend his castle from all kinds of attacks. How could he have predicted that one day, an idiot with the eyes and the smile of a fox would be able to convince him to go out?  
  
...  
  
"Omi-kun?"  
  
"Uhm?"  
  
"My team is having try outs to choose some new players, are ya going to participate?"  
  
"I don't know"  
  
"Ah"  
  
"Why are you smiling?"  
  
"'Cause ya didn't say no"  
  
...  
  
Sakusa ended up participating.  
  
...  
  
It had been three months since Sakusa joined the MSBY Black Jackals.   
  
He had to admit that he was felt quite at ease: the team was strong, the players were very good, no one asked him why he always went around with spray disinfectant at hand and they did not complain when Sakusa declined invitations to go out after training, invitations that were addressed to him with a certain frequency.   
  
Unfortunately for him, being a part of the MSBY Black Jackals also meant spending more time with a certain setter who was a little too full of himself.  
  
Sakusa had tried to ignore for months all the things he felt in his stomach, but it was really difficult when said setter kept tossing the ball perfectly, with that stupid smug smile on his stupid face or when he would show up at his front door with some of his brother’s newly-made onigiri or when he would ask him to stay a little longer at the gym to try a new kind of attack together. He made Sakusa want to slam him against a wall and punch him.   
  
Miya Atsumu made him want to touch him and hated him for it.  
  
…  
  
Sakusa decided to carry out an experiment: despite constant warnings to stay away from him, Hinata and Bokuto continued to approach to high-five him every time he scored. That day he decided to reciprocate. Slowly. First to one of them. Then to the other. All he felt was the need to cut the contact as soon as possible.  
  
Then, of course, he heard someone screaming in his direction "Omi-Omi, you are unfair!"  
  
He ignored him.   
  
The next day, to Atsumu’s great amazement, Sakusa high-fived him.  
  
"Happy?" He asked flat.  
  
"Ya can do better, Omi-kun" he said in a provocative tone with that fox-like smile Sakusa hated.   
  
That night, hidden under the covers of his bed, Sakusa reflected. So much that he got a headache.

_Why him why him why him?_  
  
...  
It took a week for Sakusa to snap.  
  
They had just won one of the most important games in the league and an aura of happiness and satisfaction reigned in the team locker room.  
  
That night Atsumu invited himself to Sakusa’s house.  
  
As usual they were on the couch, one meter from each other. They got the video of the match and now they were commenting on it.   
  
They had just watched the replay of Atsumu’s dump that made them win the second set.   
  
"It was so satisfying to see their faces here" he said pleased.  
  
"You're obnoxious"  
  
"Omi-kun, you'll make me blush"  
  
"Awful"  
  
"Aw"  
  
"Disgusting"  
  
"Ya flatter me"  
  
"I hate you"  
  
"Try again"  
  
"I like you"  
  
Atsumu's eyes widened and he shut his open mouth, like he understood that he no longer had to counter any other insult Sakusa might have addressed to him.  
  
Then he smiled "I have to admit that ya caught me by surprise this time, nice move, Omi-kun, I’ll give ya that"   
  
"I wish it was a joke"   
  
"Eh?"  
  
"I really wish it was" Sakusa said looking straight into his eyes.  
  
He had done it. He had confessed the truth. How should he feel? Light? Sad? Hopeful? He could only feel the sudden tension in the room, each breath increased its weight and Sakusa wanted to die. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe Miya Atsumu was the punishment the devil had chosen for him.   
  
He had made a mistake, a huge mistake, why had he opened his mouth? Why couldn’t he hold back? What did he expect from that conversation? It was all wrong. He was wrong. The silence was killing him and the emptiness he felt inside his chest grew bigger and bigger every second that passed without either of them uttering a word.  
  
"Say something"  
  
"Omi-kun"  
  
Sakusa closed his eyes when he heard Atsumu’s voice so low, so fragile, so sweet and for a second, just for a second, he thought that maybe he could have a tiny, tiny, lantern that shone with hope.  
  
"Omi-kun" he repeated and Sakusa dared to look at him. His hair was slightly messy as if he had just passed a hand through it, his face was tense, his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes looked huge and confused and Sakusa saw clearly the battle that was taking place behind those irises.  
  
"I can’t, Omi-kun" he spoke in the world's saddest tone.  
  
"I’m sorry" he took his hands to his head and started rubbing his forehead and temples.  
  
"I can’t. I…" their gazes crossed and Sakusa was paralyzed by the despair in Atsumu's.   
  
He could not stop staring at him.  
  
"I need to go. Forgive me, please" did he have glassy eyes?  
  
He got up, took his things, then left.   
  
Sakusa was not able to understand if the noise he heard was produced by the door closing behind him or by his shattering heart.  
  
…  
  
So that's how heartbreak felt like?  
  
A broken heart is like a camera with a broken lens. A heart, just like a lens, is something tiny, insignificant, a small part that contributes to the functioning of a whole. But what happens when that small part is destroyed?   
  
The whole organism stops working.  
  
Walking forward begins to be more tiring, every breath seems heavy, moving becomes painful.  
  
And fixing what’s broken isn’t impossible, but it takes time, and how many things can happen in that minute, that hour, that year that it will take to get everything together? Things that will only make it worse?   
  
The other problem is the pieces. People tend to imagine the heart as a form of glass, to be protected, to be entrusted only to the care of someone who will know how to handle it carefully. It’s not something we should be handing out so easily.  
  
The moment it shatters the fragments, pushed by the force of gravity, begin to fall into the void. Maybe they are destined to plummet forever, or maybe at some point they will crash at the bottom, dark just like the pit from which they came.  
  
But Sakusa Kiyoomi wouldn't have described what had just happened in his chest that way.  
  
An explosion. In the flesh room where his heart resided.  
  
His crystal had exploded and the pieces had not just fallen down. Each of them had made their own path and had gone to stick in the floor, in the walls, some were also stuck on the ceiling. And they hurt. They hurt so much. How long would it take to get that room in order? And not only that, how long would it take for every single wound to heal?   
  
Sakusa would have to equip himself, but he could not open his eyes, he was not able to bring air to his lungs, to put one leg in front of the other and walk, walk, until he disappeared beyond the horizon line.  
  
...  
  
Atsumu definitely messed everything up.  
  
He couldn’t keep his cool in front of Sakusa’s confession and ran away, like the cowards he despised so much.   
  
Two voices continued to argue in his head: one said that it was not his fault, that he couldn’t do anything to prevent what had happened, the other, the most evil, said that the only one to blame was himself, with his provocative attitude and his stupid jokes and probably also the way he had looked at Sakusa for so long.  
  
Atsumu could have, should have, prevented it.   
  
But he had not.  
  
And now he was going to pay for it.  
  
It wasn’t that he had no interest in Sakusa, on the contrary, he recognized his beauty from the first day. But it ended there.   
  
And Atsumu was selfish, but not enough to say yes, just to take advantage of him and then leave him.  
  
Atsumu knew people like Sakusa: they feel everything differently, they love in a way that's absolute.  
  
Someone like Sakusa Kiyoomi could have loved him forever, with every fiber of his being, with all his soul and body (although, being Sakusa, Atsumu had some doubts about this last point).  
  
That was why he could not delude him. That was why he had to nip everything in the bud, before the situation became unmanageable. Before Sakusa actually developed-  
  
Miya Atsumu was unable to maintain a relationship. He had never been able to commit to anything other than his professional career.   
  
Love, simply, was not for him.   
  
He had had his fair share of girls and boys, at first it seemed fun, but then, like all things, the fun ran out, nothing had ever lasted more than a few months. Not that he'd mind.  
  
But Sakusa didn’t deserve this.   
  
Sakusa deserved something more. Someone who could love him the way he loved.  
  
Atsumu, simply, was not this someone.  
  
...  
  
Of course, being teammates, the two could not help but meet at the training sessions the next day.  
  
Sakusa was certain that Atsumu, just like him, would act professionally and not let his personal problems affect his performance.   
  
However, it took him all day to mentally prepare to cross the gym's door, then walk the hallway until he got to the locker room where he found his teammates, including a certain setter that he really wanted to avoid.  
  
When he saw him, he immediately averted his eyes, focusing on opening his duffel bag and pulling out what he needed to survive the next few hours. It would be a long afternoon.   
  
Practice didn't go badly. Sakusa’s spikes were still very powerful, the rotation that he could give the ball was still devastating, almost all his serves landed inside the other court and he earned some points for his team in the small tournament they organized to end the day.  
  
Atsumu’s tosses continued to be perfect and to reach Sakusa, his smirk was still printed on his lips and he kept calling him with that irritating nickname all day long (nickname that no longer sounded so irritating during the recent months).   
  
As soon as they finished, Sakusa took long steps towards the locker room with the intent of 1) shower before the others contaminated the showers 2) escape from the gym in such a way as to avoid setting eyes on Atsumu for the nth time.  
  
Luck was not on his side. He was one step away from the exit when he heard himself being called by a voice he knew very well.  
  
When he turned around, he saw Atsumu’s face and the calm expression he wore made him want to punch him for some reason.  
  
"Omi-kun" he repeated.  
  
"What?" he said, stuffing all his emotions under the mask of a flat tone.   
  
"Can we talk?" he seemed so relaxed.  
  
"Do we have to?"  
  
"Not if you don’t want it"  
  
Sakusa thought about it for a moment. Probably the words that would have been said would have hurt even more than what had already been done. Was he ready to listen to them?   
  
No.   
  
That's why he said "Speak"  
  
"I can't be with you"  
  
"It was already obvious enough, but thank you for clearing it out" he said sarcastically.  
  
"I’m selfish, and I hate losing"  
  
Sakusa didn’t understand, but he nodded to him to continue.  
  
"I hate losing matches, I hate losing in video games and I hate losing people. I don’t want to lose ya, too. Because, as I said, I’m selfish."  
  
Should he have said something?   
  
"But I can’t even be with you. Feelings are not my thing, Omi-kun. And I hope you’ll forgive me for that, but I don’t want to delude you" a pause "People like you deserve better, dontcha think?"  
  
Should he have nodded? Shook his head? Did Atsumu really believe he was not good enough for him?  
  
"What I mean to say, Omi-kun" he brought a hand to his head "is that I’m afraid. I’m afraid I can’t return what you feel. I’m afraid I’ll leave ya at some point, and I know how much it hurts when people leave."  
  
Sakusa thought back to the story he told him about his brother.   
  
"Please, Omi-kun, say something. Whatever"   
  
"Ok"  
  
 _Wow, Kiyoomi, is that really the best you can do?  
_  
Atsumu stroked his temples. Sakusa didn’t know how he was supposed to react, what do you do when the person you confessed to doesn’t feel the same way about you? According to his personal experience: you suffer.  
  
Sakusa would have needed time.   
  
Time to heal, to let go.   
  
"What does 'ok' mean?" Atsumu asked, exasperated. Turns out he wasn’t as calm as he wanted to make him believe, but he had been a great actor all day.  
  
"It means that it’s okay, all I can do is accept it, right?"  
  
Atsumu nodded, but he seemed to have something to say.  
  
"So you’re okay with, like, hanging out again? Of course, if you’d rather walk away and not have anything to do with me anymore, I get it, just, well, I’d prefer option number one" he bit his lip.   
  
What did Sakusa want?  
  
Deep down, Sakusa knew the truth: whatever was going on between them, whatever twisted friendship, neither of them was ready to give it up. Sakusa was not ready to burn the bridge that connected them, especially if both were still walking on it.  
  
That's why he agreed.  
  
The smile that Atsumu gave him didn't reach the eyes, but he was relieved.   
  
"Go take a shower" Sakusa ordered, just before turning to the door.   
  
"Yes, sir" he answered almost cheerful.   
  
…  
  
So they ended up hanging out, practicing after everyone had left the gym (sometimes Hinata or Bokuto or both decided to stay), meeting at Atsumu’s house and play video games (Sakusa was still in the lead, but Atsumu was beginning to gain ground) or to dine together at Miya Osamu’s restaurant.   
  
Sakusa even got used to having him as a roommate in a hotel during away games without going through a nervous breakdown. Of course, sometimes he felt a pain in the chest when he saw Atsumu smile genuinely after defeating him at Mario Kart, or when his tosses allowed the team to score more points in a row during a match.  
  
Of course, sometimes he felt the ground crumble under his feet when he saw him talking to Hinata. He knew he shouldn’t have felt what he felt, but the colors of both were so compatible that it hurt.   
  
The yellow of Hinata was almost an orange, a sun that shines bringing a wave of light with a single smile, that boy emanated the same vibration of a summer day by the sea, fine sand wedged between the toes, a bath in the crystalline water, children's laughter in the distance.  
  
Atsumu’s yellow was sharper, more artificial, like the dye of his hair, like a lighthouse, a lantern looking for attention during the night. A more opaque light, less radiant. An acute, thorny shade, a burning light that hides behind a perfectly polished glass case.   
  
They might appear as opposites, but Sakusa had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that there was something complementary in the two.   
  
All the efforts he had made to fix the pieces of his shattered heart felt more and more useless. Does it really make sense to try to repair something that is destined to break from the beginning?  
  
Sakusa had tried several times to explain rationally why he fell for someone, and not only that, why someone like Atsumu? The wheels of his brain had worked so hard that they gave him a headache to deal with just before he went to bed, but nothing. Miya Atsumu was an enigma without solution, he was one of those moments that are caught in the corner of the eye, but you can neither immortalize nor, let alone, explain.

All he knew was that the pain still lingered, and Sakusa hoped to become strong enough to overcome it, or to learn how to live with it.  
  
...  
  
Weeks passed.  
  
Everything seemed to proceed, little by little, one step after another.   
  
The Black Jackals had taken first place in the league, struggling tooth and nail, and they had no intention of giving it up now that there were a few games left before the championship's end.   
  
The next would be against EJP Raijin. Atsumu couldn’t wait to be face to face with his future brother-in-law and publicly annihilate him.   
  
"Bold of you to believe you could win" said his future brother-in-law from the other side of the table.  
  
Atsumu mentally cursed Osamu for inviting Suna to sleep over. He also had to psychologically prepare for any disturbing noise he would hear in the middle of the night. He contemplated for a few moments to report them to the police for disturbing the public peace. After all, having Suna arrested would have meant depriving Raijin of a formidable middle blocker. But what pleasure could he gain from beating a team that isn't at the peak of its strength? Regrettably, he gave up the idea of calling the police.  
  
"Ya will cheer for me, wontcha, 'Samu?" He asked batting his eyes in his brother's direction. The fucker promptly laughed at him.   
  
"Believe whatever makes ya sleep at night"  
  
 _Certainly not your moans_ he thought.   
  
"Oh, betrayed by my own brother!" He exclaimed with false indignation.   
  
"You should have expected it" Suna chuckled.  
  
"None other than my twin!" Atsumu continued "I thought ya were better, 'Samu, but you let this old fox fool ya" he shook his head.   
  
Dinner ended with Atsumu promising a crushing defeat to Suna.   
  
Who knows why, but sleep proved to be impossible.  
  
Atsumu reflected on what to do for about thirty minutes, finally deciding to try his luck. He unlocked his phone and started typing the message.  
  
 **Omi-kun  
  
Omi  
  
Omi-Omi  
  
Answer  
  
Djenfjwjf  
  
I can see u r online**  
  
Perhaps he shouldn't even have sent the first message, since he and Sakusa walked on a fragile tightrope suspended over an abyss, but in recent days waters seemed to have calmed down and the tension seemed to have diminished gradually, breathing in the presence of each other had become easier. He hoped he’d made the right choice. He decided to send a last sentence and, if Sakusa decided not to answer, he wouldn’t bother him anymore.   
  
**Can I sleep at your place?**  
  
Sakusa visualized the message, but he never began to write. Here was the umpteenth betrayal of the day. Strangely it was the one that hurt the most.   
  
Atsumu placed the phone on the bedside table and tried to close his eyes.   
  
Useless.   
  
He decided to watch some videos on YouTube, with headphones in such a way as to isolate any moans and cries permeating the walls of his room.  
  
After about twenty minutes spent watching a recording of Raijin’s last game a new notification caught his eye. It was a message.  
  
 _Yes.  
_  
Atsumu got out of bed, packed a backpack with spare clothes and rushed to Sakusa’s apartment.   
  
…   
  
As expected, as soon as he arrived, he was forced to take a purifying shower.  
  
Only after he was finished, with his hair still a little damp, he was allowed to sit on the couch.   
  
"To what do I owe this unpleasant visit?" He asked, a meter away from him.   
  
"To the impure acts of Samu and Suna"  
  
"Oh, so you were lonely and thought of me, how cute"  
  
Atsumu turned to stare at him with his eyes half open, inquirers. Then he opened them.   
  
"Is that a joke I hear coming out of yer mouth, Sakusa Kiyoomi? How does it feel to be funny?"  
  
"Is that my actual name coming out of your mouth for the first time, Miya? How does it feel to be polite?"  
  
"I have no idea, Omi-kun" he said, putting all the emphasis he could on that nickname, knowing that Sakusa couldn’t stand it. "Also, yer words are bold if ya consider that uttering them is someone who categorically refuses to call me by my name"  
  
"Miya is your name"  
  
"You could call me Atsumu once in a while, ya know? My last name reminds me of my brother, and thinking of him right now isn’t really on the list of my priorities"   
  
"When you'll stop with that nickname of yours, I might think about it"  
  
"Aggressive tonight, huh?"  
  
Sakusa sighed and turned to television, pretending to follow whatever show it was broadcasting. Atsumu merely stared at him for a few more seconds, not too much to be considered harassment, but not even too little.  
  
His profile was delicate and sharp at the same time, his black curls were a bit ruffled after a long day, his eyelashes looked like butterfly wings, so thin and light and long, they were a sight every time they collided. What Atsumu hated were those moles: one just below the jaw, almost hidden by the curve of the chin, but easy to see for a good observer, three, a little smaller, just behind the left ear formed an almost equilateral triangle, and a bigger one in the seam between the neck and shoulder, barely visible because of the shirt that covered it.   
  
Atsumu preferred not to think about how many others there were under that thin layer of fabric, he preferred not to think about the effect those moles had on him.  
  
But his mind liked to wander through the few memories that he had of the other without a shirt on. Sakusa Kiyoomi’s body was a map of the universe, made of stars and planets millions and millions of light-years away from each other and Atsumu had always secretly wanted to trace every possible path to connect them (even if a lifetime would never be enough).  
  
"It's late" Sakusa said, interrupting his sinful stream of thoughts.   
  
And for some absurd reason those words seemed to imply much more than what they were referring to.   
  
They seemed to say it’s _late, time is up, you’re the one who consumed it and now you’re paying the consequences of your actions._  
  
"I know" he said in what was probably the most resigned tone ever used, as if a burden weighed on his shoulders, as if he was inside the bottom half of an hourglass, submerged under the sand, unable to breathe.   
  
"What's with you?" Sakusa asked, those pitch-black eyes nailed in his.   
  
"Nothing"  
  
"Save the lies for people who want to believe them"  
  
"It’s just one of those days when you’re sad for no reason" it wasn’t the truth Sakusa was looking for, but it wasn’t even a lie "I'll survive, Omi-kun"  
  
He saw him contemplating the situation, inhaling deeply, and then saying:   
  
"Come here"  
  
Atsumu's eyes widened. Several times already he had found himself less than a meter away from Sakusa, but this time something felt different.   
  
_This time he actually wants you less than a meter away_ his mind suggested.   
  
Why he didn't know, but he certainly wouldn't ask questions.   
  
He approached slowly, giving Sakusa time to change his mind, to tell him to go to sleep, to throw him out of the apartment if necessary, but the other said nothing. He merely prompted Atsumu to rest his head on his thigh.  
  
So Atsumu obeyed, and lay down on the couch, taking up as little space as possible, as if to close himself in a ball.  
  
His head was in contact with the fabric of Sakusa’s pants and he felt the warmth of the skin underneath. Then Sakusa’s fingers touched his temple and everything stopped. Atsumu’s existence was reduced to the little surface of contact between their bodies, a contact which Sakusa "Don't touch me" Kiyoomi had initiated. And Atsumu thought he could live like this forever. Who could worry about wasted time in a dimension where time was immobile? In a dimension where there were only Sakusa’s hands tracing lines and circles and curves on his cheek?  
  
Those calloused, but soft fingers continued to draw figures on the skin of his face and pass through his hair twisting around the strands without hurting, they were kind and caring and moved gently, slightly, slowly.   
  
He emitted a moan of pleasure without even realizing it, and when Sakusa lifted his hand, even just for a millisecond, Atsumu tried to chase it, to get close to the heat. It was an immense relief when he felt a slight pressure on his neck again.  
  
His eyelids were suddenly so heavy and he felt so tired, so relaxed. He could have fallen asleep at any moment.  
  
He tried to call Sakusa's name, but he was no longer in control of his voice.   
  
"Every time my head hurt or I had a harsh day, my mother gave me this massage and every bad thing went away" Sakusa whispered.   
  
"'mi-kun" Atsumu slurred on the verge of collapse.  
  
"Better?"  
  
He agreed with a moan halfway between sleep and pleasure. He felt his senses starting to leave him.   
  
"Sleep, okay?"  
  
Atsumu was no longer able to respond, he couldn’t focus on anything other than Sakusa’s deep and reassuring voice, which echoed in the silence of the room, or perhaps only in the void in his head.   
  
He was sure he was in the realm of dreams by now, because he heard that voice even closer, even lower, whispering "Good night, Atsumu"  
  
He must have died.  
  
...  
  
 _I’m alive._   
  
Was the first thing he thought when he woke up on Sakusa’s couch.  
  
 _I’m screwed._   
  
Was the second.  
  
...  
  
Next day was game day against Raijin. From the first whistle of the referee it was clear that getting distracted even for a second would be fatal.  
  
Raijin was formidable, especially in defense, thanks to Komori Motoya, their libero, an old teammate of Sakusa. Also with Suna in the middle and his ability to manipulate the opposing blockers everything became more complicated. Atsumu, having already played with him, had tried to instruct his teammates on his obnoxious future brother-in-law's style, but he had to admit that he had improved.   
  
_Good_ he thought _seeing their faces when we annihilate them will be funnier.  
  
_ They managed to win the first set but, starting from the second the opponents proved to be a real nuisance. His spikers had started to suffer a little too many blocks for his taste. Atsumu had to do something. In his rush to win even this set he didn't realize that his tosses were starting to be faster and less precise, almost trembling and insecure.   
  
He was getting carried away. _That’s not good_.  
  
The looks and smiles that Suna kept sending him from the other side of the net, or the grim looks that Sakusa gave him on their side of the net were not helping.  
  
"Come one, Atsumu-san" Atsumu thanked every living entity in heaven and earth for giving birth to Hinata Shouyou. This boy had such an aura of determination that he could drag anyone with him and an innate talent to lift people’s spirits with a single word or a single smile. He could have fallen in love with him, he would have, really, but the heart follows mysterious paths that often lead where we least expect it. Atsumu found it hard to even recognize that he had a heart, let alone understand how it worked.  
  
But the court was not the right place to think about his problems, and the match against Raijin was not the right time to do so.   
  
His coach had called a timeout so Atsumu sat on the bench, closed his eyes, inhaled, relaxed his shoulders and, only after feeling the weight dropping, he allowed himself to open them.  
  
In front of him loomed Sakusa, a menacing, dark shadow with eyes as hypnotic as a black hole.  
  
"Are you going to suck for a long time?"  
  
"Yer tongue hurts more than a knife, Omi-kun"  
  
All he received was an even sharper look than before.   
  
"I'm tryin'" he said seriously.   
  
"I thought you were better"  
  
Ah. This one hurt.  
  
"Gimme a second" he begged. He raised his arms, aware that the coach and the others were following the conversation.  
  
"You don’t have a second. Get up."  
  
Atsumu brought his fingers to his temples and massaged them.   
  
"If you go on like this, I will win" and the way the corners of his lips twitched upward when he uttered those words, as if he'd already won, as if he was proving to be the best between them, to be able to go ahead even without him; Atsumu couldn’t stand it, he wouldn’t back out so easily.  
  
"Oh, Omi-kun" he offered his most dazzling grin, got up and approached him, not too much, so he didn't violate the safety distance, but enough to make him understand that he had accepted the challenge "I'll make ya regret that"  
  
(Okay, maybe he was slightly violating the safety distance now , but Sakusa did not get stiff, he continued to hold his gaze, with such intensity that everyone's legs would buckle, but not Atsumu's. They were racing against each other and this time Sakusa would end up being the loser).   
  
The game went on great, both teams drew their claws, the battlefield was the sky. A single breath of wind could have changed its fate. Here, Atsumu aimed to be that breath of wind.  
  
It all started with a little jump , a feint, a dump no one could have expected. He would have asked for a recording of this game only to see the expression on the normally imperturbable face of Suna Rintarou again. He gave him a smile as sweet as honey.  
  
After that he managed to completely recover his concentration, his tosses returned reliable, easy to hit, so easy to induce the spikers to believe that they were that breath of wind. Atsumu liked to lead them on sometimes ( _Take that, Omi-kun_ ).  
  
They won the game. The last point was a service ace from Sakusa who turned to look at him with one of the most twisted and petty smiles in history.  
  
But, despite the adversities ( _Take that, 'Samu_ ) they had won ( _Take that, Sunarin_ ).  
  
The two teams bowed and, after some stretching, considered themselves free. Well, almost free since someone had to go and give some comment on the match to the journalists, but Atsumu decided to step aside and give the spotlight to Bokuto and the captain this time. Just because he needed to go brag to a certain wing spiker.  
  
But he didn’t see him immediately. It took him a few seconds to track him from the other side of the court, the one belonging to the opposing team, next to their libero. There was nothing strange, Atsumu told himself, it was just a little suspicious that it was Sakusa who went to him and not the other way. And then… his eyes must have been deceiving him because he found himself watching a chuckling Sakusa Kiyoomi. Even at a distance, he noticed those damn dimples.  
  
Sakusa had never laughed that way with him. His good mood wavered.   
  
_Not now not now not now_ he kept repeating to himself.  
  
But Komori Motoya was able to make him smile, he was able to make him laugh (damn), and yet Sakusa had confessed to him. He did and Atsumu refused without a second thought.  
  
So why was his stomach tightening just by looking at those two talking? Why did he feel a dry lump stuck in his throat? Why did that victory taste like defeat?   
  
Why were those dimples not reserved for him?   
  
Why did he desperately want them to be reserved for him?  
  
Why had he been so stupid?  
  
( _Take that, 'Tsumu_ ).  
  
...  
  
That night Atsumu felt so alone.   
  
Despite that day's defeat, Suna was definitely winning, or at least that’s what Atsumu inferred based on the noises coming from Osamu’s room.  
  
He’d watched some TV, washed the dishes, played video games, responded to messages, followed some online volleyball videos, commented the comments of some of his fans.  
  
He had done plenty of things, but everything seemed so empty, devoid of any meaning.   
  
What was with him?   
  
Atsumu knew exactly what was going on and he didn’t like it at all.  
  
Truth was Atsumu had his barriers too, maybe they were not as obvious as Sakusa's, but they existed, they were resistant. However, they were deceiving, apparently transparent, invisible glass, they illuded you to be able to see through, but all they did was actually project a deformed and distorted reflection of reality, even though it had been polished so well for so many years that it could be perceived as authentic.  
  
Atsumu had built something incredible, something unimaginable, but, for the first time, his purpose was not to attract any attention, but to deflect it. That’s why it was so hard for other people to see it.  
  
Only an attentive eye would have the ability to distinguish what was real, to lift the crystal veil that Atsumu had used to cover those walls around himself.   
  
He didn’t want people to see what was underneath: every time someone approached, an alarm sounded and Atsumu fixed that veil as best he could, he grabbed one end so he could straighten it out in case someone decided to start pulling.  
  
But Sakusa had been cautious. He had taken small silent steps, he had approached gradually and, before touching him, he had put his gloves on. Then, knowing the guy, he must have disinfected it. Somehow he had taken care of it and Atsumu, unconsciously, had loosened his grip. But Sakusa never tried to remove it. He applied a small amount of pressure in all the right places, but he never dared to go further. He might as well have. But he chose not to. As if he was asking a question, as if he was waiting for permission. Did he realize the power he had over Atsumu? The fact that, once he lifted that thin layer of fabric, a single touch with the tip of his little finger would shatter the architectural project of a lifetime?  
  
It would take so little to annihilate him.   
  
And Sakusa was already ahead of the game.  
  
Would Atsumu allow him to finish what he started?  
  
...  
  
Atsumu could no longer afford to have an existential crisis all alone, so he decided to do it in company.  
  
He decided to visit Sakusa that night because, deep down, he was an unstoppable masochist.   
  
But, perhaps, spending a certain amount of time in the company of the one who had reopened it, at some point the wound that he had inflicted to himself would stop burning, his skin would become numb and the pain would disappear forever.  
  
This time he did not send a message to announce himself, he preferred the surprise effect.  
  
It was not late. At this hour Sakusa was probably in the middle of his usual ten-steps skincare routine.  
  
When he knocked, he heard a muffled noise, then a slight thud and, finally, some steps.  
  
But when the door opened, the person in front of him wasn’t Sakusa.  
  
It was Komori Motoya.  
  
Shirtless.  
  
Atsumu opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, reopened it as he lifted the indexes of both hands, kept staring at him.  
  
"Hello" the libero of the team they had beaten a few hours ago smiled at him.  
  
Atsumu smiled back at him, with such naturalness he was impressed by himself.  
  
"Did I interrupt somethin'?" He brought his hand behind his nuke like he wanted to apologize.   
  
Komori’s cheeks were a pink so light it was almost imperceptible, and his expression was embarrassed, guilty.  
  
"Well, actually yes, but don’t worry, if you want to com-   
  
"No" he said with a little too much heat "No problem. Really. Nothing important. Sorry to bother ya. I’m leaving."  
  
He turned and began to retreat slowly. Not hearing the door closing, he dared to look behind, with the best fake smile he could afford at the time, he told him "Tell Omi-kun I said hi"  
  
Who knows, maybe he would have wavered.   
  
He doubted it.   
  
But he didn’t remain enough to see his face.   
  
…  
  
It felt like the temperature had suddenly decreased.   
  
He could not believe what had just happened to him.   
  
So Sakusa…better not to think about it. Atsumu’s masochism had a daily limit and, for today, it had been reached.   
  
But a thought tormented him all night: Sakusa had grown tired of waiting for an answer, he understood that under Atsumu's veil there was nothing worth his time, nothing worthy of being respected, nothing worthy of being loved.  
  
So he left.   
  
Just as he had come.  
  
Silent. Stealthy. Careful.  
  
Disappointed. Embittered. Disgusted.  
  
But he couldn’t be mad at him. He couldn’t get angry and start yelling at him with the accuse of having replaced him so easily. Sakusa wasn’t to blame.   
  
Atsumu had lost. He had been too slow. He left the fight defeated (again).   
  
_If only you could practice to get ready for the match against life.  
_  
...  
  
"I think your setter thinks we’re a couple" Komori told him with a cheerful chuckle.  
  
Sakusa glanced, but said nothing. He only continued to massage (obviously with gloves on) his friend’s bare back, loosening the muscle contractions on his shoulders. Komori had asked him for this small favor, since the match had worsened the situation. Also, he said that it was a good excuse to spend some time together.  
  
But Sakusa had well guessed his true motive.  
  
Because he knew that Komori was a gossip maniac and, thanks to the little bits of information that Sakusa had given him, now he wanted to know every single detail of his (inexistent) love life.   
  
"So are you going to let him believe that?"  
  
"Should I?" he asked ironically.   
  
He could've, what was there to lose? Atsumu had told him no, that meant he wouldn't care that much about the (fake) news of a relationship between him and Komori. On the other hand, Sakusa wanted to observe closely Atsumu's reaction to it. Was is petty to hope to glimpse a hint of sadness in the eyes of his setter (as his friend had defined him)?  
  
But maybe it was for the best, maybe getting that rejection wasn’t a bad thing. Of course it had hurt (it still hurt), but if Atsumu’s answer had been a yes, Sakusa wouldn't have known what to do, how to behave. Should he have approached and try to touch his face? Kiss him? Turn around and go back to watch tv as if nothing had happened?   
  
People prefer to follow familiar, habitual paths, they don’t want to go off the road and risk getting lost. So people tend to choose the pain rather than the unknown, they go on tortuous routes to escape from that inexplicable fear of what they don't know, the terror of taking a wrong step and getting away from the light trail they held onto all of their lives.  
  
Sakusa wasn't so different.   
  
He had tried and it had gone wrong. Nothing else to add. End of story. You move on.   
  
So why was it so difficult to spend time with Atsumu? And why couldn’t he stop doing it? A word from him and Atsumu would have respected his choice, no matter how irritating, hateful or provocative his ways were, he would step aside if Sakusa asked.  
  
This awareness, for starters, was one of the reasons Sakusa was unable to let him go.  
  
"Do you want to do it?" Komori grinned interrupting his thoughts.   
  
"I don't think he cares"  
  
"You think wrong"  
  
That was enough to get his attention.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You didn’t see his face when I opened the door"  
  
"Elaborate"  
  
"His jaw kinda dropped and oh, you had to see his face when he saw me shirtless, it belongs to a museum" he laughed again.   
  
"Don't move" Sakusa applied a little pressure at the right point, not so much as to cause pain, but enough to be considered a threat. Komori grunted.   
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"I don't know"  
  
...  
  
That night Atsumu hadn't slept very well, but training would not stop because he was having a bad day. He decided to take it as an opportunity to relieve some tension.   
  
He was the first to enter the locker room when they finished. All the others had stayed to make plans for the evening and to put the various equipment in order, but Atsumu was not in the mood, he just wanted to go home and destroy Osamu in some video game.  
  
Luck was not on his side because the second person to enter was nothing less than Sakusa Kiyoomi with his bored expression and his perfect body and his pale skin shining with sweat. Atsumu wanted… better not to dwell too much on what Atsumu wanted in that moment.  
  
Normally Sakusa would not say anything and he would rush into the shower before, and he quotes: "the others contaminate the shower with their filthy germs".   
  
Had he already said that luck was not on his side?  
  
"Komori told me you visited yesterday. What did you want?"  
  
The fact that Sakusa had just started a conversation with him must have seemed rather suspicious to him, but he was too preoccupied with the nervous breakdown he was about to have to think about it with a clear mind.  
  
"Nothing, Omi-kun" he lied. He certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. He felt the weight of Sakusa’s eyes on his back.  
  
"Are you sure?" He almost sounded worried about him. Atsumu could not hold out much longer.   
  
"Don’t worry, Omi, it’s all right. It’s just that some bizarre mating rituals were going on in 'Samu’s room and I wanted to get as far away as I could"  
  
Atsumu knew that if he continued, it would end miserably, but would that stop him from doing so? No.  
  
"Also, ya were having fun too last night, eh, Omi-kun?" He struggled to wear that smile that Sakusa hated so much and to wink.  
  
Sakusa froze for a moment, as if he was thinking of the right words to offer him.  
  
"I hadn't seen Komori for a long time"  
  
 _Guessed that_ he thought.   
  
"Well, the game must have been an opportunity to make up for lost time"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Well, congratulations" he said  
  
He put the duffel bag on his shoulder and left.  
  
...  
  
"My best-twin instinct tells me that you did something stupid" Osamu told him that night as he hit him in the back with a red shell, taking first place in Mario Kart.  
  
"Your instinct is as wrong as your existence is" he answered by throwing away his joystick.  
  
"Hey, Sumu"  
  
"Yeah, Samu?"  
  
"What have you done?"  
  
"I messed up, 'Samu" and he told him everything that had happened.  
  
"…And ya should see him when he’s wearing a suit, you know, 'Samu, my self-control has a limit, and I’m this close to exceeding it. The other day I witnessed him washing his hands for at least 20 seconds. Do you know what that means? His thin fingers under the jet of water and with soap on them, no, 'Samu I can’t do it, I’m going crazy."  
  
Osamu, for starters, punched him in the stomach. He imagined he deserved it.  
  
"This is for not telling me sooner"  
  
Again.   
  
"This is because you're an idiot".  
  
A third punch on the arm.  
  
"This is because you’re miserable"  
  
Would he ever stop?   
  
"And this is because beating you is satisfying"  
  
"You’re an opportunist" he said while rubbing his belly "Ya exploit my moments of weakness to hurt me, it’s a cowardly thing to do" he pointed an accusing finger at him.   
  
"Don't play victim with me, 'Tsumu, unless ya want a second"  
  
Atsumu raised his hands like he wanted to wave his white flag, but then he said "I bet that's whatcha say to Sunarin before yer second round" he tries to imitate his voice "My love, do ya want a second?"  
  
Osamu must have evolved because this time he kicked his thigh with a very strong kick.   
  
"This is because ya deserved it" he smiled satisfied.   
  
They continued to play Mario Kart while they discussed what to do. Finally, Osamu said:  
  
"Food solves every problem" he went to the kitchen.   
  
"It’s nice of ya to want to cook me a comforting meal"  
  
"I was talking ‘bout me. You're my problem"  
  
"Mean"  
  
But the truth was that Atsumu hadn’t felt so light in months.  
  
...  
  
It was official: Atsumu was going crazy.   
  
It was obvious that he had feelings for Sakusa, every time they spent time together it was like free falling: you know you’re about to crush on the ground, but you try to concentrate only on that little freedom of movement that you have for those few minutes or seconds that separate you from an inevitable death.  
  
Atsumu liked to delude himself that he still had a shred of control.   
  
But he was scared. Very, very scared. Both of himself and of what Sakusa could have represented for him.  
  
Hate had always been easy for him to handle. In middle school, his classmates hated him, in high school, his teammates barely tolerated him. Did he ever care? No.  
  
Atsumu would have gone on very well without them.   
  
Hate was easy.

But how do you manage affection? How do you approach a person? What does that mean?   
  
Feelings were really complicated stuff.  
  
They were a frantic heartbeat and a missed beat, a churning but empty stomach, they were a complex network of antithesis, made of threads of images and sensations that continued to intertwine infinitely. Maybe the human brain isn’t enough to understand something so intricate. Or maybe the answer is so close to you that you can’t see it, like when you’re desperately looking for something, and only when you stop for a moment, you realize you had it in your hand the whole time.  
  
Assuming that a solution to that mystery existed, Atsumu was not sure he wanted to know it. What would he do with such information?  
  
So why was he looking for it so desperately?  
  
Was it inconsistency? Was it contradiction? Was it that feeling which begins with the letter "L" that Atsumu was so afraid to conceive even in the intimacy of his thoughts?  
  
Why Sakusa?  
  
 _Why? Why? Why?_  
  
He didn’t know. He probably would have died without ever knowing it.  
  
Or maybe he already knew it.  
  
Truth was that no matter whether perfection existed or not, whether it was attainable or not, Atsumu was certain that he would do anything to get as close to it as possible, no matter how much he had to run, sweat or how many of his tears he would have to swallow. Atsumu was hungry. He had no awareness of the limit, for him 'good enough' was not enough, in front of him there would never be a finish line and, if it magically materialised, he'd convert it to a starting line. Miya Atsumu was an unrelenting body, and he never intended to stop.  
  
Then Sakusa Kiyoomi had arrived, with his borders and his walls and his "Do not cross" signals. Sakusa was not made of glass, but he was fragile and Atsumu knew it (although this had not prevented him from hurting him, but he had a whole life ahead to regret his choices). Sakusa had taught him important lessons, made him understand that, every now and then, it is necessary to set limits, to give yourself a break, to reflect. A body in constant motion like Atsumu can't dwell on the world that surrounds him, can't concentrate on anything other than himself and the obstacles that he finds immediately in front of him.

But Sakusa was an unidentified object that, slowly, had made its way to his side, a calming and quiet presence to which it had been easy to get used, to whose rhythms it had been easy to adapt. And Atsumu had slowed his desperate run.  
  
Sakusa had told him to breathe and he'd done it.  
  
And the air he had inhaled brought new horizons, new worlds, new truths with it.  
  
Atsumu had breathed and he'd liked it.  
  
But he forgot to thank Sakusa for letting him know how important it was.  
  
...  
  
It was as clear as the full moon shining in the night sky that Atsumu was now completely consumed. That's why he was not surprised when he lifted his cell phone, dialled Sakusa’s number (yes, he had memorized it) and pressed the green button without knowing exactly what to say.  
  
Atsumu felt that that night, for better or worse, it would all be over.   
  
"Omi-kun"  
  
"What?" he answered abruptly.   
  
"Oh, were ya doing somethin'?" He asked, thinking immediately about what he might have interrupted, he already had an idea but he didn’t want to think about it.  
  
"No"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Do you want to hang up?" He asked as if in trance.   
  
A breath.   
  
"No" but it sounded forced, sad.  
  
"Do you want me to hang up?"   
  
This time the silence stretched for longer. Every second was a needle sticking into Atsumu’s skin, but for some reason the pain seemed muffled, as if it belonged to a distant reality of which he was no longer a part. Maybe he was dying.  
  
"No"  
  
Maybe he was already dead.  
  
"Do you wanna talk, Omi-kun?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Anything"  
  
And they talked. They talked for hours. They talked about volleyball and their families and their projects. They talked about movies, video games, books. They talked about the past and the future, but never about the present.   
  
And Atsumu still felt numb. He was in a bubble and he would have started to float far, far away if it wasn’t for Sakusa’s voice that kept it anchored on the right side of the wrong world.   
  
"Atsumu" Sakusa whispered at some point. Atsumu couldn’t remember what he had just said, he couldn’t understand why Sakusa had just called him by his given name, but he couldn’t focus on anything anymore.  
  
"Atsumu, are you crying?"  
  
He didn’t know. Was he crying? He didn’t seem to feel tears running down his cheeks. To make sure he would have to raise his hand and touch the skin of his face right under his eyes, but he wasn’t able to do so.   
  
He couldn’t do much that night.   
  
"Maybe I shouldn’t have called ya" he said in that flat, monotonous tone that he probably must have used all night "I made a mistake. Sorry, Sakusa"   
  
He hung up.  
  
...  
  
Exactly five minutes later his phone started ringing.  
  
Atsumu let it ring.  
  
...  
  
Miya Atsumu is the kind of person who constantly pushes you to improve and go beyond your limits. No matter how long you’ve been walking or running, he’ll always be there to challenge you, saying "I’m still ahead of ya, try to reach me if ya can" and you’ll want to do it, if only to shut him up, to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.   
  
Miya Atsumu had taught him that getting out of his own comfort zone wasn’t something impossible, he just needed to increase the pace gradually.   
  
Miya Atsumu had made him discover the true beauty of the moments you catch with the corner of the eye.  
  
Miya Atsumu had made him live moments that he could never photograph.   
  
Maybe it was time to thank him.  
  
...  
  
When Sakusa rang the doorbell it was Osamu to open the door.  
  
Without a word he pointed to the couch, where a deformed lump that vaguely reminded him of Atsumu was crouched to watch who knows what show on TV.  
  
Sakusa turned to look at Osamu who gave him the most threatening look he had ever seen, Sakusa blinked his eyes and, in the millisecond it took him to open them, he saw him smiling innocently. Finally Osamu moved away towards the stairs.  
  
Sakusa slowly approached the couch, as if slowness could give him the opportunity to reorder his thoughts.  
  
When Atsumu saw him, his eyes opened wide but he said nothing.   
  
Sakusa let himself fall on the end opposite from him.  
  
They continued with their game of silence.   
  
But Sakusa was not strong enough.  
  
"Atsumu"  
  
"Don’t say it like that, please not like that"  
  
Sakusa swallowed, but the saliva stuck in his throat and breathing was getting harder and harder and he just wanted to touch him and tell him it was all right, that he had done nothing wrong.   
  
"What do you need?"  
  
Atsumu closed his eyelids slowly, as if he were actually reflecting on his question, as if he was not able to think of the answer.

“I need to know”

“To know what?”

"Is it too late, Omi-kun?"

And he never liked that nickname, but by now he had grown fond of it, and hearing Atsumu’s voice saying it was no longer so bad, but this time if felt so wrong.  
  
This time it was Sakusa who closed his eyes.   
  
This was the point of no return.  
  
This was the moment Sakusa Kiyoomi stopped being a coward.  
  
He was still so afraid.  
  
But what was worse? Living with the fear of not being enough or seeing the empty shell of a man who had always been full of life?   
  
The answer was clear.   
  
"No"  
  
And he watched Atsumu's head rotate so fast toward him, his pupils dilate, his chest rise and fall.  
  
"Omi-kun" he said, and for the first time that evening his voice had found the color.   
  
"Come here, idiot"  
  
Atsumu repeated the procedure of the last time and put his head on his thigh. Sakusa began to trace forms on the skin of his face until they both fell asleep.  
  
...  
  
Some time later Atsumu went to see Sakusa. They did the usual things. They watched the usual TV. Sitting on the usual couch. But something had changed: the distance had decreased.  
  
Every day they got closer, overcoming millimeters and millimeters of insecurities, tensions, fears. Until the meters had become decimetres. And after millimeters and millimeters of confusion, of anxiety, of embarrassment, the decimetres had become centimeters.  
  
They had become millimeters of expectation, of relaxation, of worship.  
  
What would happen next?   
  
Atsumu had just asked him "Omi-kun, can I kiss ya?"  
  
And Sakusa should have been terrified, he should have said no. But he was calm, and he wanted...  
  
"Not on the lips"   
  
He wasn’t ready yet.  
  
Atsumu turned to look at him so quickly that Sakusa thought his head would fly away "What?"  
  
"Not on the lips" he repeated.  
  
Atsumu had the expression of someone who had not expected a positive response, but had been pleasantly surprised, even a little stunned.   
  
But then he smiled that confident smile, the one that challenged you, "be prepared for battle because it won't be easy" it said.  
  
He approached him until his body was almost completely on top of Sakusa's. He looked at him as if to ask him if it was okay. If Atsumu hadn’t taken a shower before he sat down on the couch, sat down on him, he probably wouldn’t have been able to bear it, but fortunately (unfortunately for Sakusa), he had taken it.  
  
Then he drew his lips to his left ear and whispered with that voice, that deep and persuasive voice "As you wish, Omi-kun" and Sakusa could swear he sensed him smile against the shell of his ear that, almost certainly, was now tinted of a bright red. He could swear he felt his lips right on the soft skin just below, where three of his moles formed a triangle.   
  
He held his breath and squinted.   
  
"Omi-kun, ya seem ready to receive a stab rather than a kiss" and it sounded as 'if you don’t want it you still had time to tell me'.  
  
"It's just... did you brush your teeth?"  
  
"Twice" a pause "meticulously"  
  
Perhaps for the good news or perhaps for the tone he had used, but Sakusa relaxed, slowly gave way under the weight of Atsumu’s body.  
  
"Tell me if it gets too much"   
  
And he kissed every single part of his face, except his mouth.   
  
Sakusa did not want to close his eyes, because doing so would have meant focusing on the other senses and this would have involved a wave of emotions too strong to bear. But that seemed the perfect day to drown.  
  
His lips were so slow, they touched his skin and they stopped on his right cheek, trailed on his jaw, brushed his chin, continued until they reached the other cheek. They paused by his left eye, their touch so light, then settled on his nose. Finally they came to his forehead and there they caressed his two moles. Atsumu had told him several times he adored them. Now his tongue was running over them and Sakusa thought _disgusting_ , but he couldn’t find the words to stop him.   
  
And he wanted to hold his ground, he wanted to resist so Atsumu wouldn’t win. Just so he could smile victorious at the end of that war they were fighting with their bodies and souls.  
  
He felt the heat of Atsumu's mouth drifting away and he reached for it. If he wasn’t ready to want it before, he wasn’t ready to let it go now.   
  
"Greedy" Atsumu smiled at him.  
  
Then his lips began to drag by the other ear, to trace a long path to his neck. They were painfully slow. When Atsumu began to nibble on his sensitive skin, Sakusa groaned, feeling every vital spirit he had left abandon him.  
  
He didn’t even realize that he had his hands on Atsumu’s hips, that he was drawing his torso against his, that he was getting closer and closer.  
  
"Oh, Omi-kun" Sakusa lost his breath. The vibrations those words produced against his throat went through his whole body and he shivered, his back straightened and he tried to inhale. Inhale, exhale. It was simple, there was nothing complicated.  
  
He continued to do so until Atsumu’s hand leaned gently, but steadfastly on his mouth and they found themselves face to face. In Atsumu’s chocolate-brown eyes there was concern.   
  
"Omi-kun" he whispered "Breathe"  
  
Sakusa must have lost all control and started to wheeze without realizing it, and now Atsumu was trying to bring him back to reality.   
  
"I need ya to breathe, Omi"  
  
He didn’t let him go until the air started entering his lungs regularly, until his heartbeats subsided.  
  
"Sorry, I let myself get carried away" he said with some embarrassment.  
  
"How's that any different from the usual?" Sakusa said and, in a rush of courage (or madness) and with a faster and more clumsy movement than anything he had ever done, he flipped them over in such a way that he was on top of Atsumu.   
  
It was worth it just to see his face.   
  
"Omi-kun" he sounded insecure. Sakusa had to stop giving in every time Atsumu said his name, because he knew that he would notice and he would know exactly how to take advantage of it, but it was physically impossible to avoid the chill that ran through his spine, the flow of heat that poured into his stomach, the way he craved for…  
  
He reached out one hand to the other’s face and tried to distract himself by caressing him. Atsumu’s mouth opened and his torso arched to enjoy the best of that contact. Sakusa heard a guttural sound and could not tell which of the two had emitted it or whether both of them had at the same time.   
  
His hand was dangerously close to Atsumu’s lips. He followed their profile with his thumb and traced every bump, every curve with diligence, as if he were touching something sacred. Atsumu’s eyes were black with desire.  
  
Before Sakusa had time to react, Atsumu tilted his head so that he could slide that finger inside his mouth and began to twist it between his teeth and Sakusa was amazed not to find that gesture repulsive, but pleasant. He longed for more more more.  
  
Atsumu whined when Sakusa withdrew his thumb, but smiled when it was replaced by the index and middle finger. He was having a lot of fun judging by the way he laid Sakusa’s fingers on a carpet of teeth and twisted his tongue between his fingertips, sucking the callous skin.  
  
So much was going on, and yet Sakusa thought it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough with Atsumu.   
  
He watched him turn his head to the left and look at him sideways.  
  
"Omi-kun" it sounded like a moan and Sakusa couldn’t stand the fact that Atsumu had so much power over him, that he perfectly knew all his weaknesses, that he knew how to exploit them to his advantage, that he knew what Sakusa wanted and how to make him want even more. He hated the way the afternoon light was filtered from the curtains and settled on Atsumu’s eyelashes and how his eyes seemed to melt into a copper-colored eclipse and he hated the way the shadows danced between his hair.  
  
 _Asshole_ he thought  
  
And he kissed him.  
  
Everything was so fast.   
  
But he was kissing him.   
  
He was sure of it because he clearly felt Atsumu’s lips, cracked but soft, against his own. The collision was the moment when everything stopped and a new type of time began to flow, a time belonging to a world that had opened its doors just for them.   
  
Atsumu hesitated for a second, but when Sakusa increased the intensity of the kiss he understood that he wouldn’t hold back, that he would stay until the end.  
  
Atsumu kissed just like he played volleyball, he knew exactly how to manage the game, how much pressure he had to apply, where to aim. He had total control of the situation, and Sakusa wanted him to lose it, he wanted to be the cause of that loss, he wanted to hit him when he least expected it.   
  
He heard him moan against his lips and smiled because cracks were beginning to form in his mask of perfect tranquility.   
  
He let his tongue slip beyond the threshold of his lips and it was much more natural than he had expected.  
  
He let his hands work their way under Atsumu’s shirt, feeling his muscles twitch under his fingers.   
  
He was pleased when he heard a sound of pure pleasure coming out of his mouth.  
  
Sakusa was touching him, Sakusa was allowing someone else to touch him. And everything felt so right. For a moment he wondered if he was not living in a dream (or a nightmare), perhaps in a few minutes the alarm would have sounded and his eyes would have snapped open and everything would have vanished.   
  
But this was true true true.  
  
And Sakusa knew that flesh was not reliable, flesh hurt and mocked and lied. But Atsumu’s skin was soft and honest and gentle, the way his hands had begun to explore the muscles of his chest and they moved on his body was graceful, but firm, burning, but not enough to cause any harm, never enough, and Sakusa wanted wanted wanted.  
  
...  
  
Summer had finally arrived.   
  
You could breathe a change in the air, a change made of rays of sun.  
  
It was hot, very hot, but this had not stopped them from leaving the house to take a walk in that place so dear to them.  
  
They were dressed like two tourists: Atsumu had a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Sakusa had his camera around his neck and he was wearing that pastel green shirt with kiwis that he had so despised, but he had not forwent his mask.  
  
The grass in the park seemed to shine, the river flowed lazy and crystalline, the trees seemed to whisper joyful songs. Children ran screaming, mothers brought their hands to their heads and then began the chase, the elders spoke from one bench to another, some guys were reading, others did yoga, many took refuge in the shade to take a nap, lulled by the rustle of the wind among the foliage of the trees, by the muttering of the water, by the lightness of the air.   
  
Sakusa and Atsumu were on that bridge they liked to call their bridge.  
  
The same bridge from which an idiot had jumped off a long time ago.   
  
They stopped exactly in the middle of it.  
  
They leaned slightly from the handrail.  
  
"Careful" Sakusa warned "You might fall"  
  
Atsumu knew there wasn't real worry in his voice.   
  
"Will you ever be able to leave the past behind, Omi-kun?" He rolled his eyes.   
  
"Not as long as I’m alive"   
  
"Well, I’ll have to kill ya, then. How about a flight?" He indicated the river.   
  
"I don’t think it’s enough to take me out. It didn't work with you"  
  
"It will be enough to kill your dignity. It's a good beginning" he offered the most innocent smile he had in his repertoire.  
  
Atsumu stretched his hands to Sakusa’s camera, lifted it over his head, turned it on and took a photo of him "For yer grave" he said.   
  
But apparently, he wasn’t happy with the result. Sakusa continued to hear that click all day until, just as when they arrived, they found themselves back on the bridge.  
  
A girl was passing by. Atsumu approached her and asked her if she could take a souvenir picture of them. She opened her eyes wide, as if she recognized him, then smiled kindly, showing her hands to receive the camera. But Atsumu asked her to be patient with him for a moment and handed her a disinfectant wipe.  
  
"I beg ya to bear with me the madness of that clean freak" he whispered pointing at Sakusa with a nod. Despite being on the other end of the bridge, he seemed to hear his words and he turned to look at him with a grim look, but he only received a grin in return (two if you also consider the small smile of the nice and patient girl).  
  
When she finished rubbing her hands, she put the wipe in her pocket and told them to pose.  
  
Atsumu stretched his arm and placed it on Sakusa’s hip, the other just looked straight into the lens.   
  
Click.   
  
They thanked the girl and hurried, at least Atsumu hurried, to observe the result. Sakusa reached him in a few seconds.  
  
The picture was bright, the park was a living organism behind them, the river was a mirror of the sky.  
  
Atsumu had taken off his glasses and hung them on his shirt collar, Sakusa had removed the mask that was now under his chin.  
  
And they were both smiling.   
  
"Damn dimples" Atsumu muttered a little too loudly.   
  
"Let's go home" Sakusa smiled and offered him a hand.   
  
Atsumu took it.  
  
"I wanted the camera back" he complained.   
  
But he didn't let go.  
  
He would never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inhales deeply again* so this is the end. This was my first fic, it means a lot to me, so i really really really hope you liked it.   
> Comments are very appreciated :))

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still super nervous about this fic, so I hope you liked this chapter +++ I'm @nonlovso on twitter if somebody wants to scream about haikyuu


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